


Birds of a Feather

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, M/M, One Big Happy Family, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-01-01 00:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 42,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12144921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: A space for my RWBY ficlets written on tumblr. The vast majority are Ozqrow, but there's gen and family stuff thrown into the mix too. Check out each chapter for an individual summary.





	1. Sugar-Coated Everything

**Author's Note:**

> If you follow me on tumblr sorry this isn't new material. I'm just trying to get everything in one place :D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How absurd, that Glynda would suggest Ozpin is lonely, of all things. What does a man need except good work, good books, and…
> 
> …and Qrow Branwen, apparently.

Ozpin paused in the act of icing his cookies, looking up at Glynda with a thoroughly amused expression. After a moment he simply gestured to the work still laid out for him to do: icing cakes, dough to bake, bread currently rising, the photo albums he’d been meaning to update. Glynda rolled her eyes. It was a very old argument.

“You should  _try_ ,” she emphasized, picking at a bit of cookie dough with distaste. “Honestly, Oz, spending dusk ‘till dawn in this place isn’t healthy. Who do you talk to other than your customers? And me?”

“Do I need someone other than you?”

“Oh please. Flattery hasn’t worked since college. Try again.”

Truthfully, Ozpin wasn’t sure flattery had worked on Glyn back in college either, but he bowed his head in assent. Transferring the cookies to a clean sheet he licked stray icing off his fingers, thinking over her comment.

“There’s James,” Ozpin said.

“You don’t talk to James, you two bicker. That hardly counts. Again, please.”

Ozpin chuckled. “What is this, an interrogation? Glynda, you seem to be under the mistaken impression that I’m unhappy and that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I have you, James—despite your protests—my books, and my shop.” Ozpin laid a hand fondly over his counter, picking up flour and enjoying the feel of it between his fingers. “There are men out there far less fortunate than I.”

The morning rush would be starting soon. Ozpin had perfected his timing over the years, but that only held up if he wasn’t distracted by well-meaning friends. It was with a pointed look that Ozpin brushed by Glynda, rolling up balls of dough with a serene smile.  

“You’re impossible,” Glynda muttered. “Worse than the kids.”

“That’s right. Shouldn’t you be heading off to teach them?”

Glynda glared, but it melted away when facing that smile. She sighed, smoothing her pencil skirt and picked up her bag. On her way out of the kitchen Glynda laid a hand on Ozpin’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“I’m not worried that you’re unhappy,” she said. “I’m just worried that you’re  _lonely_.”

Ozpin leaned into her touch but otherwise kept quiet. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

***

Beacon was a small, rustic bakery a mere three blocks from Atlas University where Glynda taught—a closeness that often benefited and frustrated them in equal measure. Ozpin had thought long and hard about following her there, the chance to shape young minds an alluring possibility, until Ozpin realized that education came in many forms. When asked about his bakery’s name, he told people honestly that good food was like a beacon of light in an otherwise dark world. He felt that he could help others with a good cookie or slice of bread, often in ways they didn’t immediately understand.

The students thought he was crazy. As did most of the professors. Ozpin didn’t mind.

Especially when his work so rarely felt like work. This was normally his favorite part of the day, when students running late rushed in for bagels or donuts, parents and 9-to-5’ers following at their heels for a good cup of coffee. Ozpin enjoyed the rush and the early morning complaints, made slightly better by his food. Today though, Glynda’s comment refused to leave him alone. Each interaction was enjoyable… but simplistic. Hollow. Ozpin passed a bag of donut holes across his counter and for the first time had to muster up his smile.

“Absurd,” he muttered when the rush died down. “This will pass, as all things do.” The tiny bell over his door rang and Ozpin turned, determined to reclaim his normal, upbeat spirit. He smiled a true smile.

And it immediately faded.

The man who’d just walked through his door was new to Ozpin—must be new to the neighborhood because it wasn’t in arrogance that he claimed everyone visited his shop at one time or another, and Ozpin never forgot a face. He certainly wouldn’t have forgotten his: lean and handsome with a 5 o’clock shadow, experience etched into every line of his cheeks while a veil of tenderness still lay behind his eyes. Ozpin’s smile faded because he found himself frozen, stunned in a way that hadn’t happened in  _years_. He wiped suddenly sweating palms down the front of his apron.

“Hello,” Ozpin said and immediately winced at how his voice cracked. “Ah, apologies. I’ve… a bit of a cold. Nothing that contaminates the wares though, I assure you. It’s all perfectly safe.” Ozpin shut his eyes briefly at the sound of his own rambling. “Yes. Well. How can I help you?”

…he shouldn’t have asked such an open question. Oh dear.

Luckily, if the man noticed his ridiculous floundering he didn’t comment on it. In fact, Ozpin would be surprised if this man noticed _any_  proverbial elephant in the room. He looked exhausted beyond belief, one hand scrubbing at his face while the other fished crumpled bills out of his pocket. The man dragged himself forward and tossed them onto the counter.

“I need a birth cake,” he said, voice raspy. He leaned one elbow down and nestled his chin in the crook of his hand. He smiled tiredly.

Ozpin, meanwhile, tried valiantly to get his heart-rate under control. “Of course. I have a number of birthday cake options. You’re free to browse my portfolio—”

“No, no, no,” the guy waved his hand. “I need a  _birth_  cake. Like, take whatever cheap-ass, three-day old shit you’ve got laying around and write BIRTH on it all sloppily.” He paused. “Not that your shit is shit. The birthday boy just doesn’t need anything extravagant. Don’t exert yourself.”

Ozpin stood, torn between amusement and slight horror. For the first time he realized that this man wasn’t just exhausted, but thoroughly hung over. As a rule Ozpin had very little tolerance for the drunk and this realization should have displeased him… yet he felt only a strange rush of fondness. Like he’d just found a disgustingly bedraggled kitten. Stupid, but cute.

“Just a moment,” he said.

Three-day old shit? Honestly. As if Ozpin had ever sold anything that wasn’t fresh and wonderful. (Okay, so there was his failed scones experiment, but he hadn’t sold those, just given them away to exceedingly wary customers.) He did, however, have options on the simpler side. Ozpin took a small cake out from the display case, already covered in his favorite, green fondant. As he set about finding a decent piping bag he took a detour into his kitchen, filling up a clean glass of water for his customer. The guy twitched a little, clearly surprised by the gesture, but he took the water greedily, downing nearly all of it in a single gulp.

From there on out it was easy. Ozpin was a fan of all holidays, including Halloween, and it was a simple matter to pipe BIRTH is creepy, jagged lettering. When he was done he turned the cake around and the man immediately started laughing.

“Fucking perfect,” he said, slapping his thigh. “That’s what I’m talking about. Shit, I  _like_  you…”

Ozpin bit his lip hard so as not to blurt how happy he was to hear that. “Might I inquire as to who this unique cake is for?”

“Beloved brother-in-law.”

“…ah.”

“Hey, this cover it?”

Ozpin looked to the mess of bills still strewn on his counter. They were numerous and all twenties.

“This is actually too much—”

“Eh, keep it. I’m in a generous mood. Not too steady on my feet though, huh?” The man shrugged ruefully. Indeed, he was now swaying a bit and appeared a little green around the gills. “Look, I’ve got kids who’ll pick this up later, alright? You just… just enjoy your day now, Mr…”

“Ozpin,” he said, giving into a laugh of his own. “And you are?”

“Qrow Branwen. Nice to meet cha’.”

“Likewise. Do go get some rest, Qrow.”

“Brilliant fucking plan.” Qrow waved vaguely in Ozpin’s direction before wandering out the door, that little bell causing him to flinch this time in pain. Honestly, Ozpin half wondered if Qrow would remember this encounter at all. He certainly hoped so.

“Only because he needs his cake,” Ozpin murmured and for a while reveled in that lie.

***

His lunch rush hit two hours later. The little girl came in an hour after that.

“Hello?” she said, poking only her head through the door, like she was exploring some dangerous place and not a well-lit bakery. When her gaze finally settled on the counter Ozpin gave a little wave.

“Hello,” he echoed. “You wouldn’t by any chance be one of Qrow’s ‘kids’ now would you?”

It was the difference between night and day. The girl’s face lit up and she scrambled inside. Ozpin barely saw her move before she was halfway up the counter, pushing back a red hoodie and bouncing on her toes.

“He’s my uncle!” she chirped. “I’m supposed to pick up a cake for my dad because today’s his birthday and Uncle Qrow was going to do it, but he got kinda drunk last night and that’s not his fault, not really, because Raven—Yang’s mom, not mine—said she’d visit Dad but then backed out and she and Uncle Qrow got into this biiiiig fight, so he’s sleeping now and I can  _totally_  carry the cake back all by myself.”

It must have been something that ran in the family. Whereas normally Ozpin would have been irritated by the English-mangling ramble, with this little one he found it only endearing. She couldn’t have been any older than ten, filled with happy energy and ready to prove her worth. Ozpin leaned down on the counter so he was nearer to her eye level.

“What’s your name?” he asked kindly.

“Ruby. Ruby Rose. And my sister is Yang and my dad is Tai. You’re Ozpin, right? Uncle Qrow remembered that much.”

A thrill ran through him, but Ozpin pushed it back down.

“How come…” Ruby hesitated, thinking over the question. “How come you’ve got such white hair?”

“I am very, very old.”

She giggled. “No you’re not. You look young!”

“Well then isn’t that just my luck. Do you know how I stay so young?” he leaned in, as if imparting a great secret.

Ruby’s eyes grew appropriately wide. “How?”

“These,” and Ozpin tapped a display case—a whole mound of chocolate chip cookies. Ruby looked as if he’d just confirmed something that she, along with all children, knew instinctually, and wasn’t that just grand? “Would you like a free sample, Ruby?”

Ozpin didn’t have free samples, but that didn’t stop him from giving Ruby a triple chocolate chip cookie when she nodded. He really hadn’t been joking. Joy like that was how  _anyone_  stayed young.

While Ruby enjoyed her snack Ozpin pulled out the cake, watching as she sprayed crumbs down the front of her shirt in laughter. After only a second though Ruby became somber, looking now at the lettering with a calculating air.

“Can you write other stuff?” she asked, sneakers squeaking on his tiled floor.

“Of course. Anything you wish.”

“I’ve only got this much though,” Ruby said, pulling out a few one-dollar bills and a depleted packet of gum. Lucky for her, Ozpin had always been rather fond of Tutti Frutti.

That’s how Ruby left his shop with three things: her father’s cake (little tyke was stronger than she looked), a bag of iced sugar cookies that spelled out “ZWEI BROKE THE REMOTE NOT ME,” and a message to Qrow from Ozpin.

_Please come again._

He really was a blessed man. Qrow came back the very next day.

***

“I need a cake!” he announced shouting it loud enough that poor Ms. Peach nearly dropped her loaf of bread. Ozpin steadied her and sent a glare up at Qrow.

“Very well, but you will wait your turn,  _Mr. Branwen_.”

Qrow only grinned. “Is that your ‘I’m in trouble’ voice? Not bad, I gotta say. Alright. That’s fine. Look at me patiently waiting,” and he leaned against the doorjamb in a pose so exaggerated Ozpin nearly broke.

He had to look to Ms. Peach to ground himself. “My apologies. Here, let me help you…”

Despite his supposed focus on what had long been a valued customer, Ozpin couldn’t help but sneak numerous glances up at Qrow. The change was staggering. Whereas yesterday he had been disorientated, listless, today he was just overflowing with energy—and Ozpin could easily see where young Ruby had learned it all from. More than that though, Qrow  _looked_  better, as if such a thing were even possible. He had healthy color in his cheeks and a lightness to his step. The simple jeans and t-shirt he wore were a huge step up to yesterday’s wrinkled clothing.

And now he was  _flirty_  too. Ozpin swallowed around a very dry throat.

“A cake,” he said when Peach had finally left. “Odd. Don’t tell me there’s another birthday so soon?”

Qrow snorted. “Nah, but needing another is entirely your fault. Dinky think you sold me is kinda small for four people and Ruby has been going on and on about how great your stuff is…” Qrow dropped him a wink and Ozpin didn’t know whether that meant he should be proud of gaining Ruby’s approval, or if such approval was just an excuse.

An excuse for what?

“Hmm,” Qrow hooked one hand on the counter and swung himself down into a crouch. He pointed—seemingly randomly—at a pink cake with flowers in the corner. “How about that one?”

Ozpin could see Qrow through his display case, all manner of sweets superimposed over his form. He shook himself out of a daze.

“Of course, of course. Did you want anything written on this one?”

“A five.”

He stopped in the act of drawing out the cake. Ozpin blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“I need a five on it.” Qrow mimed drawing a massive five in the air. His grin said he was teasing… but Ozpin was clearly missing the joke. “Nothing fancy, just elementary school level stuff.”

“Does your entire family enjoy such strange confectionery preferences?”

“Ha! Wait until Yang gets in here.”

Ozpin didn’t have to wait long. Just two days after he gave Qrow a cake with a five on it (“Are you  _sure_ this is what you want?”) the most intimidating twelve-year-old Ozpin had ever met blew into his shop. Literally. She charged her bike right through the front door, bringing with her a gust of wind that scattered Ozpin’s flyers and all his loose cupcake liners. When she got that mane of blonde hair out of her face Ozpin met Yang Xiao Long, the perfect kind of firecracker to round-out this odd trio.

She pointed finger guns at Ozpin and demanded a cake with a six. Not a nine,  _six_. Make sure you put a line underneath so we know which way is up.

“Are you playing some sort of prank on your poor father?” Ozpin asked. He was at a loss as to what else these cakes could be for.

The smile Yang gave him was a little scary. “Please. Dad  _knows_  when we’re playing a prank.”

Oh dear.

It went on like this, Ruby or Yang or Qrow (preferably) coming in every few days, asking for a cake with some random number on the top. Three times they asked only for strips, a single line down the middle of their chosen cake. Eight more times he sold to them and each time Ozpin felt simultaneously left out of and a part of something intimate. He faithfully learned the intricate handshake that Yang taught him. He put up the drawing of Zwei that Ruby gifted him. He tried valiantly to give Qrow his phone number.

“I am a coward,” Ozpin told his donuts and their glazed goodness judged him appropriately.

“What was that?” Qrow asked and Ozpin shook his head. He was over by the cookies again, picking out a selection for Ruby, and no teasing would ever convince Qrow that he was spoiling that girl. Not that Ozpin was much better. Over the course of three weeks he’d experimented with tart flavors for Yang and built new cookie-cutters to create the monsters from Ruby’s imagination. They were both, in a word, whipped.

Qrow wandered back over, dropping the bag of cookies between them. Ozpin waited for the cake order. It didn’t come.

“Is that all?” he asked, ringing up the cookies. Odd, but he was rather disappointed.

Qrow didn’t answer at first. He took his time going through his wallet. “You take pictures of all this stuff, right?”

“Why…? Yes. Yes, I do. For my portfolio.” Ozpin gestured to the ever-present binder by the register. “People like to see what I’ve done in the past before committing to a more expensive cake. Or they can browse to get ideas.”

“Yeah. Makes sense. You even take pics of our shitty numbered stuff?”

Ozpin smiled. “Yes. Even your ‘shitty numbered stuff.’”

“Alright.” For the first time since he’d known him, Qrow appeared a little out of his depth. Nervous, even. “Do me a favor then, Oz. Go back and put all those pics together. Chronologically. Then you can decide.”

“Decide?”

Qrow was already halfway out the door. He raised a hand in farewell. “Yep. Your decision, Oz.”

Fascinating.

Ozpin closed shop early that day, for the first time in nearly two years. It was the work of only a few minutes to lay out all the photos… and when he did Ozpin very much wanted to hit himself.

It was a phone number. Three dashes, ten numbers. He clapped a hand over his mouth to keep a giddy laugh contained. He might be alone, but how  _embarrassing_.

Instead Ozpin stared hard at all the photos, drinking them in and enjoying the little shivers they sent down his spine. When he felt like he could move again Ozpin took another pic of the whole thing, sending it off to Glynda. Her understandably confused response came quick.

_What the hell am I looking at?_

Ozpin tilted his head back and smiled at the ceiling.

_The answer to your worry, Glyn_.


	2. Your Liminality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some say that lonely nights are a time when magic is active. Ozpin finds a strange crow outside his window and, of course, offers him a new home.

_What’s your favorite fairy tale?_

Truthfully? All of them. Ozpin could no more choose a favorite story than he could a favorite student. Each had helped him to grow over the years, to reflect on past mistakes and look to the future. Like friends they comforted him on his lonely nights—nights much like this one. Whatever storm had decided to blow through Vale was certainly a doozy and Ozpin was perfectly content to leave the wind and the rain outside his window, curling up with a companion in the form of a book. A pillow for his head and pages between his hands. Ozpin thought himself a simple man with simple needs.

Though even he enjoyed his indulgences. It was going on 1:00am when Ozpin stood to refill his mug.

Passing through his office and into the kitchenette, he shouldn’t have caught the soft  _tap-tap-tap_ sounding from the window. Not above the screech of the storm and his own, constant thoughts. The birds of Vale never flew as high as his tower and Ozpin couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen a crow this late at night… none of which actually made the drenched avian disappear. Apparently, this little bird wasn’t a particular fan of logic.

He tapped the glass again, insistent, and Ozpin’s eyebrows rose into his hair.

“Very well,” he murmured and rolled up his sleeve. The window overlooking Beacon’s courtyard didn’t open, but everything, even glass, was a slave to time’s command. It was a simple matter to slow the atoms enough for Ozpin’s hand to pass through them and he gripped the crow, gently, to bring him safely in from the cold.

Nestled against his chest Ozpin could now get a better look at his guest. The bird was certainly a disaster—ruffled and bent feathers going every which way, a slight shake in his bones—but he didn’t appear injured. Ozpin took a moment to marvel at the trust that had been offered him. He’d heard that crows were marvelously intelligent creatures, but this was far more than he would have expected. Still wary, Ozpin slowly transferred the bird to one hand and unbuttoned his jacket, using the edge to gently dry the top of his head.  
  
“Now you’re welcome to stay here for tonight,” he said, “but you mustn’t ever tell anyone what I did to get you in here. Glynda will have my head if she hears that I’ve been ‘abusing’ my power in such a manner.”

The crow tilted its head up at him and gave, what sounded to Ozpin, like a remarkably amused squawk.

“Yes. Precisely. It’s best to stay on her good side. Come, I was just about to make some more cocoa. Would you like some water? Or perhaps something stronger? I’m sorry to say that you look as if you need it.”

Ozpin spoke and joked and continued on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. After all, he was the headmaster of the most prestigious of Hunting schools. One got used to the strange occurring on a daily basis. One might even say that the extraordinary became the ordinary, and this was certainly that.

His small kitchen was warm, smelling of baked goods and always dusted with flour. Ozpin deposited his new friend next to the sink, half expecting him to try flying away—but he did not. The crow stood perfectly still as Ozpin finished drying him with a tea-towel and placed a small cup of water before him. For just a second the crow stared at the offering, one foot up on the cup’s rim, his gaze piercing and slightly accusatory, as if he really _had_  wanted something stronger. Ozpin chuckled at that expression and the crow finally drank.

“You are an odd one,” he murmured. Then Ozpin paused, smiling again. “Ah. What was that expression? Two birds of a feather? Yes, yes that fits us nicely tonight, doesn’t it?”

He went about making a drink of his own, the motions almost ritualistically familiar, and as he did Ozpin found himself talking about the book he’d been reading: an old collection of tales that, sadly, weren’t taught in schools anymore. It couldn’t be helped, not when combat training was so important, but Ozpin was still sad to see them go. Why, just an hour before he’d been lost in a world of familiars—animals that sought out heroes, became guides for quests, or even lead humans astray. When Ozpin cheekily asked the crow if he was here as a dark omen he was rewarded with another squawk, the bird flying up to land on his shoulder. He nestled there against Ozpin’s neck, playing with strands of hair in a thoroughly irritating manner. Ozpin didn’t have the heart to shoo him away though.  
  
“There’s also the matter of the Faunus,” he said, pouring warm chocolate into his mug, tugging another clump of hair out of the little marauder’s beak. “You can imagine the backlash against stories that depict animals as villains or secondary to humans. Quite right, of course, quite right. Still, they’re fascinating tales. Would you like to read some with me?”

Interesting.  _That_  look read as disinterest in the extreme, but the crow also didn’t seem eager to move from his perch. Smart or no, Ozpin figured that any warm, safe environment was worth putting up with his prattling, so he obliged by moving to his more comfortable couch, creating a nest with his blanket for the crow to settle in. Slowly, lest he get nipped, Ozpin drew his fingers down the length of the bird’s back, straightening feathers and tufts as he went. For the first time the crow spread his wings and shook off what remained of the water, letting Ozpin do as he pleased with a patience that, in the light of day, might have seemed suspicious. At night though… well, anything was possible.

It had been a very long time since Ozpin had had reason to read aloud. He did so now, the words first sounding disused in the back of his throat before he found his rhythm again. As he did Ozpin continued his careful ministrations, the crow lazily pressing or curving around his fingers. He’d become quite adept at multitasking over the years and as he read Ozpin thought long and hard on the fact that he might have found himself a pet—no. A companion. He could only imagine the look on Glynda’s face come tomorrow morning, or the children’s if their headmaster was seen strolling the grounds with a crow perched attentively on this shoulder. Ozpin found the images more amusing than he’d ever let on.

“I’m going to have to pick a name for you, aren’t I?” he asked. “I suppose 'Crow’ is too atrociously obvious? You’ll have to forgive me, but names were never my strong suit. I vaguely recollect a goldfish as a child who, wouldn’t you know, I named Goldie. Yes. I’m sure there’s some karmic punishment coming my way for that little decision. Oh?”

Perhaps 'Crow’ wasn’t such a horrible a name after all because the bird had risen up to peer directly into Ozpin’s eyes, head cocked curiously. He pecked once at Ozpin’s lips and made a strange rattling sound.

For a moment Ozpin was caught off guard, but then the corners of his eyes crinkled in pleasure. He set the book aside and stood. As he set Crow back on the couch—intent on finding him something comfortable to sleep in because yes, he would indeed be staying—he gave in to indulgences and bent to place a soft kiss on the top of his head. Ozpin experienced the touch of feathers before pulling away, promising to be back in just a moment.

“You’d better. Also, it’s spelled with a 'Q,’ just so you know.”

Ozpin froze, his back to the couch, one hand instinctually tightening on the head of his cane. With the window to his right he could just make out the couch’s reflection… and oh dear, it certainly  _was_  a night for possibilities. Where his Crow (Qrow?) had once been was now a young man, naked except for the blanket draped haphazardly across his lap. Raven hair and red eyes mixed with tanned skin… and now Ozpin could feel the man’s aura. A mixture of anger and humiliation rose up within him because it was only now that he recalled the rare trait of animal transformation—that some transformations could be broken with a kiss.

The old stories  _had_  warned him.

And Ozpin might have followed their advice, rejecting temptation, if not for the fact that Qrow stood with book and blanket in hand, coming to stand directly at Ozpin’s back, close enough for his breath to tickle his neck. Qrow leaned his chin on Ozpin’s shoulder and it felt no different from a perched bird. Things fell into place as he wrapped arms around Ozpin’s waist, bringing the book around so they could both see it.   
  
“So,” Qrow said. “Which of these weird-ass tales is your favorite?”

Ozpin smiled.

No one had ever asked  _him_ that before.


	3. Long Distance Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ozqrow Sense8 AU

Learning to separate from your cluster was a difficult, yet necessary skill for any senseate—even moreso for Ozpin. After all, in the course of the seventeen years since their second birth they’d suffered the death of Summer, the betrayal of Raven, and Salem’s heartrending turn to BPO. Other clusters looked on their nearly two-decade survival with awe. Ozpin merely thanked his mental control and Glynda’s ability to replicate the organization’s blockers. Because truly, no matter how much you might share emotionally, there were times when a person just needed to be  _themselves_.

…especially when their closest linked partner was acting like an uncultured child.

“Sixty-eight bottles of beer on the wall, sixty-eight bottles of beer! You take one down, you pass it around, sixty-seven bottles of beer on the wall. Sixty-seven bottles of beer on the wall, sixty-seven bottles of beer~”

Ozpin faltered briefly in his lecture, determinedly not looking to the back of the lecture hall where Qrow was seated, slouched in his chair and his boots up next to the head of the student in front of him. Not that Mr. Willer noticed, or cared. Ozpin was the only one here who had to deal with Qrow’s… antics.

“—take one down, pass it—wait.” Qrow stopped suddenly and for the briefest of moments Ozpin had peace, using the silence to finish his sentence, flashing his students what he hoped was a persuasively normal smile.

But then: “Huh. What number was I on? Shit, must have lost track. I’m just  _awful_  at math, aren’t I? Oh well, best start over. Ahem,” Qrow tilted his head back towards the ceiling. “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer—!”

Ozpin closed his eyes. He could cancel class, but that was precisely the sort of defeatist reaction that Qrow was looking for. This had been going on for hours now and everyone who still had clear access within their cluster had long locked the two of them off into their own little world. Still, Ozpin could briefly feel Glynda’s annoyance, as well as Tai and James’ amusement. In fact, for just a second Ozpin was not just at the University, but also James’ private lab, where everything was quiet except for the soft whirr of machinery. He had just long enough to appreciate the difference before he was thrown back to this.

Traitor.

Good god, he didn’t even remember what he and Qrow were fighting about!

“Ninety-two bottles of beer…”

“Please,” Ozpin said, momentarily caving. Ms. Hay in the front row raised her eyebrow in concern. “Please answer the question,” Ozpin amended quickly.

Qrow paused. “Giving up?”

While students raised their hands Ozpin aligned himself with Qrow. It always made him slightly nauseas, to be in a room yet also be in the  _same_  room, through the experience of another. Still, Ozpin leaned over his fool boyfriend at the back of the classroom.

“You wish,” and then he was only at the front.

“Actually,” Qrow said, suddenly right behind him. “Even I’m getting a little tired of this…”

Ozpin pointed to Ms. Sullivan and as he did he turned his wrist, a simple, un-noticeable gesture that simply meant ‘yes.’ He felt Qrow nod and thought that he’d return to his own institution now, perhaps to start in on the mound of papers that Ozpin could clearly see piled on his desk.

Qrow chuckled as he caught that. “Nah. I’m happy right here,” and he pressed himself flush against Ozpin’s back, fitting his hands over Ozpin’s hips and sliding them slowly down the front of his thighs.

Ah. Ozpin felt a thrilling,  _sinking_  feeling that he’d just made things a great deal worse.

“Uh huh,” Qrow murmured. “You’re good at ignoring my singing, but how about something a little more… intimate? Careful now. Impressionable young minds out there…”

Ozpin smiled benignly at his class.

It was with equal parts malice and yearning that he promised to have  _bird_  for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like the idea of a RWBY/Sensate crossover I've written extensively about it on my tumblr. Just search [Itsclydebitches/tagged/rwby!8](http://itsclydebitches.tumblr.com/tagged/rwby!8)


	4. Down By the Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vague follow-up to "Sugar Coated Everything"

Ozpin really wasn't an expert on these things. However, even he thought if your date cracked up when they first saw you, that probably wasn't a good sign.

He looked down at his clothes, half-wondering (and hoping) that there was some stain of jam or flour that he could play off, maybe run back inside for a quick change. He was a baker after all. Hardly unusual... but no such luck. Qrow continued to laugh uproariously and Ozpin, as far as he could tell, was immaculate.

Definitely not a good start.

Ozpin looked back up, eyes slightly narrowed. "I'm not sure whether I should be offended or not."

"Oh no, shit, don't go getting offended—" Qrow waved a frantic hand, looking legitimately distressed. He was still chuckling though. "Sorry, Oz. I don't mean to be an asshole about it, but..." Qrow bit down hard on his lip. "A suit? A _green_ suit? I told you we were keeping things casual."

Again Ozpin looked down at his outfit. Ah. He could see now how that might be confusing. In truth though this _was_ casual for him, in a manner of speaking. While it was true that a baker's life didn't lend itself to fine clothes—Ozpin generally stuck to slacks and light, long-sleeved shirts protected by his apron—when given the chance he much preferred to look his best. After all, next to his speech what else did you have to judge a man on but his clothes? Even in college he'd dressed up rather than down, something James gave him nothing but grief for. It was hardly his fault if the athlete couldn't dress himself...

Ozpin smiled. "This is a rather comfortable suit, I assure you. You'll notice that I've forgone the tie."

"Uh huh. It's green."

"I like green."

"I like green," Qrow mimicked, finally closing the distance between them. He hesitated a moment, seemingly unsure, before leaning up to give Ozpin a quick kiss on the cheek. It was such a gentle moment from the normally boisterous man and Ozpin closed his eyes, savoring it. When Qrow pulled back there was a faint cheery color to his cheeks.

"You look good," he said, dispelling that concern. Ozpin was about to tell Qrow the same—dressed in torn jeans and a black t-shirt, an array of jewelry decorating his hands and neck—but before he could Qrow's hand bumped his, pulling back for only a moment before linking together. Ozpin's mind short-circuited and all that got through was that he was _far_ too old for butterflies in his stomach.

How wonderful.

Qrow began leading them down the street. He was slow about it. Casual.

"Where are you taking me?" Ozpin asked. "I recall you were disgustingly close-mouthed over the phone."

Qrow shook his head, grinning. "I told you not to dress up. We're going to feed the ducks, Oz."

"The...?" Ozpin blinked, processing that.

"Yep. Motherfucking _ducks_. You'll see. They're the punk-rockers of the bird world."

... alright then.

 

***

 

Ozpin was ashamed to admit how long it took him to realize that a man named 'Qrow' might well develop a slight fixation on birds. Then again, perhaps he wasn't giving Qrow enough credit. He'd never attempted to hide the tight budget he was working with, especially when there were four mouths for him to feed. Once, while browsing Ozpin's portfolio, Qrow had told him about working as a props designer, specializing in weaponry. It was fascinating but not very lucrative career, especially when he didn't have connections with any of the larger film studios. Tai, meanwhile, apparently excelled as a stay-at-home dad—and Ozpin could easily see raising Ruby and Yang as a full-time job. Qrow had spoken frankly that if he picked the first date (as Ozpin insisted he should) it wouldn't be anything fancy. Perhaps a trip to the park was the most he could afford.

If so, it was an excellent choice.

"Beautiful," Ozpin murmured. Their small town really did have a nice park, large enough and wild enough that it felt like something natural. Their slow walk had led them to the entrance right at dusk and a thin purple sheen shone among the clouds. Ozpin brushed hair out of his face and tilted his head to the sky.

"Sure is," Qrow said and something about his tone made Ozpin think he wasn't talking about the sunset. He ducked his head back down in embarrassment.

"You promised me ducks," Ozpin reminded him, imbuing enough seriousness into the words that Qrow chuckled. The previous mood was broken, but this one was just as comfortable. Qrow nodded and started down the path towards the lake.

"Ever been down here?" he asked. 

Ozpin shook his head. "I'm ashamed to say I have not."

"Well all you gotta know is that the little family I’ve acquired is greedy as hell." Qrow shook a baggie he's drawn out of his pocket. "Doesn't matter how late it gets, if there's someone with food nearby then they'll stick around. Claymore will bite your freaking fingers off if you let him, so watch out. Spatha's a little shy. I normally try to create a pile to distract them and then toss the rest her way. Talwar, meanwhile, is just a straight up asshole—" 

"Wait." Ozpin drew them to a stop. He ran through his very limited knowledge and... "Did you honestly name a family of ducks after _swords_?"

Qrow grinned. "'Course I did. Oh, except one. You'll see..."

Ozpin wasn't sure he did see, but dear lord, that was half the fun. Somehow learning of Qrow's odd habit felt more intimate than anything Ozpin had experienced with previous partners and as they reached the lake he found himself swinging their linked hands, feeling like a schoolboy. Heaven help him if Glynda ever saw him like this.

Ah. Hmm. Yes. That must never, _ever_ happen.

"Here we are! Hey there, guys. Mind if Oz and I join you for a while?"

 They'd been swarmed as soon as they came into view. The ducks, like squirrels and pigeons, had no fear of humans after generations spent in this place. Ozpin was mindful of their little webbed feet as he and Qrow found a nearby bench, sitting thigh-to-thigh and shoulders brushing. Ozpin was so hyper-focused on the touch that it took him a second to realize Qrow was offering him the bag.

"Just bread," he said, popping a piece into his mouth. Qrow nearly choked as the closest duck (Claymore?) gave what read as an incredibly angry quack.

"Jeez, buddy. Wait a damn second."

Ozpin took the offered handful. He hesitated though, just resting it in his lap. He certainly didn't want to come off as, well, a sanctimonious know-it-all (to quote one of James’ favorite sayings), but...

"You realize this is terrible for them?" Ozpin said, immediately regretting the words.

Qrow cocked his head. "Huh?"

"The bread, it's... I'm so sorry. I realize now how rude this is, but it's essentially a junk food for them, almost no nutritional value. And of course if they fill up on it they won't be eating from their normal habitats and---not that you should have known that. Of course. I just... sorry. I'm sorry, Qrow."

He glanced between Ozpin and the impatient ducks, looking a little thrown. "Well shit. Wait. One crisis at a time. What exactly are you apologizing for?"

Ozpin didn't need a mirror to know that his cheeks had heated. He only sent up a quick thanks that the sun had finally sunk. "I've been told that I… how did Glynda put it? Yes, 'suck the fun out of everything.'"

"You...?" Qrow was staring one moment and then he started snickering, hanging his head—where the ducks started taking the opportunity to peck at his clothes and hair. With a splutter Qrow shooed them off him and sat back up, poking Ozpin in the shoulder.

"Oh man, that is _rich_ considering that I'm definitely having fun. Shit, Oz, we'll just bring something else next time. What do ducks like then?"

 _Next time._ Ozpin swallowed. "Bird seed it always good. Fruits. Chopped lettuce."

"Bird seed it is then," and with a grin Qrow took Ozpin's wrist and helped him throw out the first handful. "They can eat shit for one more night. I ate like 12 cakes just to get you here, you really think a little trivia is going to turn me off?"

Ozpin considered. "Perhaps not."

"Damn straight."

With a lazy silence between them Ozpin settled, tossing out the bread one piece at a time, making sure they lasted as long as possible. Certainly it had nothing to do with the fact that each time he did his arm brushed along the length of Qrow's.

"So," Ozpin said. "Where is this mysterious bird without a sword name?"

"He heard you talking about him." Qrow pointed to a duck that had arrived at the edge of their group. He stood out like a beacon due to his white feathers, as well as the large tuft on his head that looked similar to a Mohawk. "That one is 'Oz.'"

Ozpin froze. The glare he leveled at Qrow had him snickering again. " _I_ am the namesake?"

"I told you, Oz, punk-rockers of the bird world. They gotta have a leader. I've been looking for the right name since we moved here."

"Qrow. There is nothing 'punk-rock' about me."

"Now you say that, but that's exactly what proves you are."

"No sense," Ozpin muttered, but he was secretly pleased. It was a feeling he recognized from other, rare moments. There was just something magical about this time of night. It allowed for possibility... and courage.

He might not have been the first to ask for a date, but Ozpin was the first to offer a real kiss. He took a moment to trace Qrow's shadow with his thumb—making sure he wanted this—before leaning in and discovering just how good humor and contentment tasted on the tongue. Qrow was a little rougher, pulling Ozpin until he had one leg hooked around Qrow's calf, the rest of him nearly up in his lap. Ozpin pushed back into the kiss and Qrow slid his hands through the opening of Ozpin's shirt. Yes, he was thrilled he hadn't worn a tie.

When they came to rest forehead-to-forehead, Ozpin was shaking. It was excitement, arousal, thrill... and just a tiny bit of fear. Because this… this was real.

"We have an audience," Ozpin murmured, eyes shifting to the disgruntled ducks. He watched Qrow let his eyes slide shut as he smiled.

"Pervy bastards."

Perhaps, but they weren't the only ones.

 

***

 

No matter how magical a night, daybreak always arrived. Ozpin was back in his shop long before the sun came up, preparing his wares and opening his door at 8:00am, jue like he had for many, many years.

When Qrow came in late that afternoon—dangling a small bag of birdseed behind Port's back—Ozpin had the absolute pleasure of knowing that their simple time spent together had meant as much to Qrow as it had to him. That was wonderful. 

Though not quite as wonderful as Qrow's expression when he saw the new cupcakes available. Each was accompanied by tiny, rice-crispy figurines covered in fondant that sat atop the frosting. In short, each flavor had a corresponding duck.

"There's only one outlier," Ozpin said, completely straight-faced as he showed off the display. "These over here—black forest with a whipped cream topping—are 'crows.'"

Port was no fool. He looked between the two men, noting Qrow's twitchy expression, and slammed a meaty palm down on the counter.

"Fantastic! I'll take five."


	5. An Unexpected Duet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will I ever write an ozqrow fic that's not just them meeting and falling head over heels?? Perhaps, but today is not that day. 
> 
> Blame Yuri on Ice for this. Also my fave RWBY anon who wanted an ice skating AU. It was a good combo.

"I'm gonna fight the ice."

Qrow was hardly fazed. He just watched, dispassionate, as Yang knelt down to glare at the rink, one finger jabbing violently at a clump of ice-shavings. Six years old and this was her new thing. Blinding sun in the late afternoon? Yang would fight the sun. Dislike that your dad packed a sandwich with crunchy peanut butter instead of smooth? She'd fight the sandwich for you. The bee that stung Ruby last week? Oh yeah, Yang had _definitely_ tried to fight that.

Qrow had made the mistake of bringing it up around dinner that night. Tai had very slowly lowered his pan and turned on Qrow with a glare that legitimately sent chills down his spine.

"Gee," he'd said. "I wonder who she picked _that_ up from."

Alright. Fair.

"Gonna burn the rink down, firecracker?" Qrow asked and smiled as Yang gave out an enthusiastic cheer, roaring and stomping Godzilla-style around the entrance. "Cool. You know I support all your rebellious tendencies, but how about we burn shit after we teach Ruby to skate, huh?"

"...Fine."

Qrow felt a tug on his jeans. He looked down to find Ruby wobbling in her kiddie skates, staring up at him with big, grey eyes.

"Yeah, rosebud?"

Ruby removed her fist from her mouth. "Shit!" she repeated, smiling broadly.

“Yep.” Qrow shut his eyes. "Tai's gonna have my balls."

Well, if he was going to die he might as well enjoy himself before he did. Qrow checked both the girls' skates before scooping Ruby into his arms, gently encouraging Yang out onto the ice. Always a go-getter, Yang grabbed hold of the wall and started scooting herself along, tongue protruding stubbornly from between her lips. She was a natural skater…if you were willing to accept stomping along as legitimate technique, staying up and balanced by digging the blades into the ice, no doubt destroying them in the process. Qrow winced a little as Yang laughed.

Ruby made grabby motions at her sister. Qrow waited until a rowdy bunch of boys swept by before lowering Ruby down, keeping her slightly in front of him and a firm hand in both of hers. She giggled as Qrow look powerful strides, pulling her along with him.

This was nice.

They didn't get to come here very often but dammit, the weather was cold and his girls deserved something other than arguments around the house—about Raven or money or whether they should be homeschooled next year. Halloween was just two weeks away and he'd taken to bundling Ruby and Yang in sweaters each morning. It was the next logical step to imagine them in hats and mittens, so Qrow had said fuck it and lead them here for the afternoon.

"You gotta glide, kid," Qrow said to Yang, still holding Ruby up with ease. The little squirt needed to gain some weight. "Bend your knees more and push off one leg, then the other."

Yang pushed alright—pushed herself straight into the wall. Qrow watched, horrified, as her head bounced off the Plexiglass in slow motion. Yang yowled and immediately reared back to kick her attacker, toppling and landing on her ass. Then Yang yelled louder.

Oh boy.

Luckily theirs was a dinky rink that catered exclusively to families and teenagers. As Qrow went straight into damage control ("You’re fine, you’re fine!") and brushed the ice from her pants, everyone gave them only a passing look. Screaming kids were pretty normal around here. Yang had already forgotten about her little misadventure when a shadow fell over Qrow.

"Is she alright?"

He looked up and god help him, for just a moment Qrow thought he'd tumbled straight down the rabbit hole. The man who'd approached was so far removed from the rest of the crowd that he might have stepped right out of a storybook.

He was tall—taller than Qrow—dressed in grey slacks and a green cable-knit sweater that only accentuated his height. For all the towering though he had a kind smile, one gloved hand reaching out hesitantly towards Yang. He also had the longest hair that Qrow had ever seen on a man, beautiful gray strands that fell in waves to his lower back and (oh no) Ruby was making a grab for them.

"Don't even try it, squirt." Qrow said, intercepting at the last second. He stood, wobbling with Ruby back in his arms and Yang holding onto his leg. Qrow tried to be marginally truthful with himself, so he admitted that maybe not all the wobbling was the kiddies’ fault. Qrow was a confident man who could admit when another guy made him weak in the knees.

And this dude... holy _fuck_.

"She's fine," Qrow said, realizing that the man was still staring. He swallowed and only succeeded in getting his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. "Totally fine. As you can see. She does that. You know. Kids."

"I actually don't know," the man murmured. He reached for Ruby this time, allowing her to grab hold of his gloved hand to play with. "I haven't any children of my own, though I've always wanted them. There’s nothing quite like taking our future quite literally in hand." He smiled as Ruby latched onto his thumb.

"...uh huh."

Not the most eloquent response, but it was all Qrow could manage. It wasn’t his fault. Who the hell talked like that? Who talked like that while _looking_ like that and oh god fucking damn it absolutely none of this was fair. He wanted kids? Qrow had kids! Here, take the adorable devils and never, _ever_ leave.

Actually, Ruby seemed quite taken with the guy. More importantly, Yang wasn't attacking his legs in an effort to save her sister, so she must like him too, and wasn't that one hell of a miracle? The whole family liked him. Whoopee.

Qrow might have been drowning.

"Qrow," he said because his name was about the only thing he still had a handle on right now. Shoving out his hand at that speed while balancing on freaking knives was a mistake though, and for a split second Qrow thought he was going to crack his head open on the ice. At the last moment though the man steadied him with a smile.

"Ozpin," he said, hands still branding Qrow's forearms. "It's wonderful to meet you. And you too, young ladies."

"Hi!" Ruby said, still at the stage where conversation was limited to repetition (read: her growing repertoire of curse words) and saying thing like "hello," or "bye" or "milk please."

Which was how she ended up looking deep into Ozpin's eyes and saying, "Cookie?"

His face immediately fell. He even touched the pockets of his slacks to be sure. "I'm so sorry. I don't have any with me."

Qrow had to smother his laugh at how devastated the guy looked. "Don't worry. She asks everyone that. We thought Yang here had a sweet tooth—" he ruffled her mass of blonde hair and Yang beamed, showing off a gapped smile. "—until Ruby came along. We were not prepared."

"Cookie!" Ruby demanded, clearly not getting (or caring) that adults didn't normally carry baked-goods around in their pockets. Though they obviously _should_.

Ozpin hesitated. "'We?' Your partner...?"

"Nope." Fuck, had he been too quick in that answer? Qrow tried valiantly to act casual. "It's my brother-in-law. These two brats are his. I'm just the lovable uncle."

Yang seemed to take serious issue with the term "lovable" and Ruby—geez—had become fixated on the prospect of a treat, hands patting everything within reach to get their attention. It worked on Ozpin. He hesitated again and then (oh my god) swept into a bow. Qrow watched, agog, at not only the action but the fact that Ozpin managed it on ice, sweeping out into an arc even as his arms extended delicately.

"I realize you've only just began your day," he said, "but perhaps after a few more laps, if you'd allow me the honor, I could treat you all to some refreshments? It's nothing fancy here," Ozpin's eyes sparkled. "But I do believe they have chocolate chip cookies."

In what fucked up world would Qrow say no to that?

So they took a few more turns around the rink, to justify getting the girls into their skates if nothing else, and as they did Qrow became uncomfortably aware of how mediocre his skating was in comparison to Ozpin's. God awful even. Oh, he could balance fine and had a knack for a bit of footwork, but that was chump change compared to the easy grace Ozpin possessed—to say nothing of the single jump he landed, seemingly out of the blue. Qrow didn't catch how many times he turned in midair, or how he managed to land on just one skate, but it was enough to draw a spattering of applause from the other families, a few raising their cell phones to capture the moment. Qrow did manage to spot how Ozpin's expression morphed from dreamy to downright embarrassed. He raised a hand haltingly at the praise and hunched as he skated back over, as if to hide his earlier skill.

"My apologies," he said, though for the life of him Qrow didn't know what he was apologizing for. "Would you care for that drink?"

 _Yes,_ though they'd have to settle for hot chocolate.

"I love it here," Ozpin confided a few minutes later, setting four mugs down at their table. "The couples, the families...skating has always been a passion of mine, and I take heart at seeing the younger generation discovering its joys."

"Well you're damn good at it."

For some reason the compliment didn't land. Ozpin's pale cheeks went pink, but he appeared uncomfortable with the praise; unusually interested in making sure the girls had napkins and extra marshmallows.

The small cafe above the rink definitely wasn't much, but Qrow had always liked their brownies. What did he like even more? How Ozpin somehow managed to clomp around in skate guards and still look like a tall drink of water. The guy had Ruby's sticky hands leaving marks on his sweater and Yang jabbering in his ear and _still_ managed to make the whole image look sexy. Qrow quickly lost track of the few strange quirks he'd noticed, as Ozpin seemed more interested in learning about him. How often did he and the girls frequent the rink ("It's a pity I haven't seen you here before"—and Qrow lost a good year of his life at _that_ ), whether he enjoyed any other sports ("Not unless you count tag with these two"), and what it was like being a bodyguard, of all things ("Not as glamorous or action-packed as you'd expect.") An hour passed in strangely easy companionship and it was only Ruby yawning and falling into Yang that cued Qrow into the fact that it was time to go.

Ozpin stood from the booth first, extending a hand to help Qrow to his feet. His skin was smooth, warm, and when they let go Qrow found a small slip of paper resting in the center of his palm. Ozpin's number.

"It really was a pleasure," he said quietly, looking somewhere past Qrow's shoulder. "If you also found my company agreeable perhaps we could... do this again?"

"Without the kids," Qrow was quick to say and Ozpin's eyes crinkled as he smiled.

It wasn't until two days later that Qrow realized why that nagging, familiar feeling wouldn't leave him alone. Tai, always more into the social media than he was, had his iPad out and playing at the breakfast table. The girls were still asleep upstairs, which made Tai's amused expression highly suspect.

Actually, there was a hint of panic in there too.

"What the hell are you watching?" Qrow asked, snatching up a mug for coffee. He was sorry he had though, considering he dropped it the second he saw what was on the screen.

It was him. Or rather, him in the background, Yang and Ruby attached to his legs as Ozpin finished that complicated spin. Qrow watched, frozen, as the video played what he’d thought was a semi-private moment from two days before: the crowd's applause, Ozpin's embarrassment... the way he gallantly took Qrow's hand and lead them off of the rink.

Tai stood and shoved the iPad into his hands. "Title," he said before bending to clean up the smashed mug. Qrow numbly took a closer look.

**Figure Skating Champ Ozpin Pine Spotted at Local Rink!! New Bae???**

Qrow also spotted the number of emails they had waiting. And texts. In the back of Qrow's jeans his phone began to buzz with missed calls.

"You sure know how to pick 'em," Tai said easily. It seemed he'd settled on amused instead of panicked. Good to know.

Qrow let the video play again, following Ozpin's movements and mentally kicking himself for his stupidity. The guy was a fucking _champion_? Of course he was. And there was Qrow, wobbling on the sidelines.

He watched his own expression light up at Ozpin's approach. There was a name for that look. It began with an 's' and ended with 'mitten.'

He had the number of a goddamn celebrity stuffed into his sock drawer.

"Well fuck," Qrow said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand I'll probably continue this at some point :D


	6. Past Recordings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some quickly written hurt/comfort at the bar! Technically takes place during episode one of volume 5, but you can get by with just the scene from the end of volume 4.

"I take that back."

Oscar felt very much like the proverbial deer in the headlights. Poised on the edge of the stool, arms gripping tight to the bar, he let his gaze slide slowly over to Qrow.

 

"The drink?" he asked hopefully.

 

Qrow snorted. "Fuck no," and he motioned for the bartender to hurry things up. "Nah. I'm taking back my 'good to see you.' It's _not_ good to see you. You look fucking twelve, Oz."

 

Oscar had his mouth open to say that he was, well, _Oscar_ and that he was fourteen, thanks, but a niggling little thought told him not to correct the bleary-eyed man. That he needed this.

 

Ozpin had been growing... fainter wasn't the right word, actually more _there_ seemed accurate. Like he was less a voice in Oscar's head now and just his own, natural thoughts. His demand for the cane—nestled safely between his knees and the stool, a cool and somehow familiar weight against his leg—had been the clearest 'speech' in days. It felt good, actually. Like he and Ozpin both were truly a person again, rather than one invading another.

 

He only realized he'd been silent too long when Qrow rattled the new drink that had appeared in his hand. He grunted and tossed it back with skill, listing alarmingly to the right. With a squawk Oscar caught him around the middle, keeping Qrow up on his seat by sheer determination. He might have worked on a farm, but this guy was _heavy_.

 

Qrow didn't seem too inclined to help. He draped himself fully over Oscar for a moment, wobbly hands seeking purchase, and—wait? Was he _smelling his hair_? Quick as he noticed it Qrow yanked himself back up though, a distasteful look on his face. It was faint, but Oscar thought he heard a mumbled, "You really _are_ twelve."

 

"I'm sorry, okay?" Oscar said, when he was satisfied that Qrow wasn't going to take a header into the floor. Or try smelling him again. "I know it's... weird, but it's not like either of us asked for this. I sure as hell didn't." He scowled down at the bar, kicking a boot out in what he recognized as a petulant manner. But it felt _good_. "You think I want some old guy in my head? Messing up my life and making me remember things that I never saw? I stopped for coffee this morning, okay? I hate coffee, but I spent my last lien on it because... I suddenly didn't?" Oscar gripped his hair, sliding a little himself. "I don't even know what _food_ I like anymore."

 

For some reason that drew a chuckle from Qrow. He gestured for another drink and when he had it he glanced askance at Oscar, right over the glass’s rim. "That sounds like him."

 

"Huh?"

 

"Worrying about fucking coffee."

 

"...oh."

 

"You want some?" Qrow asked, tipping the drink. "You might be twelve, but you're also old as balls, far as I know. Might as well take advantage of the confusion."

 

He didn't want it—whatever Qrow was drinking smelled awful—but another, faint remnant of experience told him that drinking was always better with friends. So Oscar took the offered sip—and promptly choked.

 

Well at least someone was amused.

 

"We'll practice," Qrow promised, slapping him on the back. "You want something else? Help yourself. I've got a tab open."

 

Oscar shook his head. "No. I don't want that..."

 

"Hm? What do you want then?"

 

"The kids." He immediately winced, realizing how messed up that sounded coming from him, but for just a second the people Oscar imagined _were_ kids to him. "Ruby and the others. Are they...?"

 

"They're here," Qrow confirmed. He turned messily on the stool, leaning one elbow on the bar and his chin heavily in his hand. "Guess you, _Oz_ , missed a whole lot, huh? Well they're alive. Most of 'em anyway. I assume you know about the Nikos girl?"

 

Oscar swallowed hard. It had been all over the papers. Beloved World Champion missing after the fall of Beacon, presumed dead. He could picture Pyrrha most clearly from those clippings, but there was another image, faint, of her smiling at him from across a desk—open and entirely trusting. It twisted his insides.

 

"Yeah," Oscar said.

 

Qrow gave a curt nod. "Ruby saw it happen. Stupid kid won't talk about it, but I know it's eating her up. Heh, not that I'm one to judge coping mechanisms." Another long swallow. "She did a real number on Cinder though, you'll be proud to hear. Aura exhaustion from that little stunt, but otherwise she’s fine. Physically. Yang..." Qrow's adam's apple bobbed. "Yang lost her arm."

 

The room spun for just a moment. Oscar had to shut his eyes. "I'm sorry."

 

"Yeah. You keep saying that."

 

Silence descended. Oscar jumped when Qrow suddenly traced his finger along the top of the now empty glass, creating a high-pitched whine. His eyes were trained on Oscar’s and he looked terrifyingly sober.

 

“Jaune. He’s got this recording of Nikos on his scroll. Listens to it damn near every night. Thinks he’s being subtle about it, but the kid’s got a lot to learn about keeping secrets.” Qrow paused, his gaze dropping down to his lap. “That what you are now, Oz? Just a fucking recording here to taunt me?”

 

It was a straight punch to the gut. Before he knew what he was doing Oscar had slid from his stool and pushed between Qrow’s legs, bringing hands up to frame his face. He felt the shuddering breath that went through him and Qrow leaned, briefly, into his right palm.

 

“ _No_ ,” Oscar whispered, suddenly, impossibly sure of this. “He’s still here, Qrow. I’m me, but… he’s still him.” He dug his fingers a little into the stubble, watching Qrow’s eyes slip shut. “He explained it to me once. About souls and our consciousness. The body it—it doesn’t _mean_ anything. Not for him anyway. It's like, like Yang. You say she lost her arm, right? Is she suddenly not your niece?"

 

Qrow wrenched himself out of his grip. "Don't be stupid."

 

"You don't be stupid," Oscar shot back. "She could lose her other arm and she'd still be Yang. Her legs, her chest, even her head. Different, yeah, but not gone. That's Ozpin now. He's not tall and doesn't have white hair or any of that," Oscar briefly touched the center of his chest. "But he's still here. He—"

 

It came to him. Another thought far clearer than the others. He knew what he had to say and Oscar ducked his head, lips twisting in a rueful smile.

 

"You're still his dusty old crow."

 

When the arm descended on Oscar’s shoulders it nearly knocked him off his feet. He looked up to find Qrow staring into the distance, a rather wet sheen to his eyes.

 

"I found you," he muttered.

 

"What?"

 

"Nothin'," Qrow said. He began to ruffle Oscar's hair with drunken abandon. "I _do_ like being taller than you."

 

"Hey! Quit it!"

 

"Fuck that. I gotta take advantage of this. I gotta..." Qrow developed an adorably serious look. "I gotta _protect_ you now."

 

Oscar blinked, feeling like that was very much the wrong conclusion. "Huh?"

 

"C'mon. I'm taking you home. Gotta round up all the kiddies."

 

" _What?_ "

 

Not that he had any choice.

 

In the end it was definitely less Qrow taking him home and more Oscar helping him to stumble along, the fresh air and stars seeming to lift his spirits. Oscar tolerated the one-armed hugs and the off-key singing though. It was nice after weeks of only Ozpin to talk to. Oddly familiar too.

 

"Food drama," Qrow slurred, taking a brief reprieve against the nearest lamppost. "You still like cookies don't you?"

 

Oscar paused, considering that. "Yeah. Cookies are great."

 

"There you go then." Qrow waved an expansive hand. "The more things change..."

 

"The more they stay the same," Oscar finished. He smiled.

 

Yeah. They could work with that.

 


	7. A Little Bit of Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the ozqrow reader who wanted bed sharing~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A little bit of mercy makes the world less cold and more just." - Pope Francis

Ozpin had read once that hypothermia was supposed to be a painless, even peaceful death. Well. He had _quite_ the bone to pick with that author. Not that he was in any real danger, of course. Certainly not. He was just a little... lost.

Lost and cold and so terribly tired.

"Forward march," he told himself and Ozpin giggled, spontaneously. It just wasn't the kind of thing he normally said and for some reason that made it inexplicably funny. He wished he hadn't laughed though. The movement cracked his lips, a brief blossom of pain, and Ozpin raised a gloved hand to check for blood. Odd though, he couldn't quite tell when his fingers reached his mouth.

In fact, his whole body was in a strange place between numb and floating. Ozpin acknowledged that his green suit and peacoat weren't very good defenses against the cold. He'd certainly change if he could, but if that were possible he wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. Ozpin would be home, warm, not traversing a deserted road through three feet of snow.

Or was it four feet? Rather hard to tell with all the drifts. Ozpin was a tall man and the snow had brushed his knees more than once, so... god, it didn't matter. Thinking of feet only reminded Ozpin that he couldn't feel his (oxford loafers were even less conducive to the weather) and it made walking a truly heroic task, like speaking after a large shot of Novocain. Possible, but hardly elegant. Did he stumble there? Maybe. Or perhaps he could blame the wind. Ozpin leaned briefly against a nearby tree—frozen tendrils skittering up through the bark—and realized that he'd been speaking this whole time, senseless mumblings just to make sure his jaw was still there. But it wasn't Novocain, was it? He was just very, _very_ cold.

Ozpin leaned his head against the trunk, breathing deep so it felt like knives were lacing into his chest. The icy bark actually felt good against his skin, warm in comparison, and for the first time in an hour a truly clear thought shot through his head:

_I need to get somewhere safe._

A groan. Couldn't blame that one on the wind. It was just so _frustrating_ because that's what Ozpin had been trying to do, for what felt like half the night. Find something, anything, on this dark and winding road. He hadn't seen a house for miles and was too scared to go off into the sparse woods, lest he lose the one path he had. He certainly hadn't seen another car—everyone else was smart enough to keep off the roads in this storm. At one point Ozpin had become convinced that he'd gotten turned around, that he was walking back the way he’d come, and it was only another brief moment of lucidity that warned him not to change his course. If he suddenly saw his car again Ozpin was quite sure he would cry.

Then again, even that dead hunk of metal was alluring now.

Pushing off the tree Ozpin kept moving forward, turning his hips rather than truly picking up his feet. He couldn't any more. Soon he wouldn't even have the energy to do that and Ozpin could picture, too clearly, how he'd curl up against another tree, burying animal-like until even the snow seemed warm. No one would find him like that. Or if they did it would be at the end of this horrific storm, some poor traveler getting the surprise of their life. Ozpin could see the headlines now: Prestigious Professor Dies Like a Fool on Side of Road, Missed by Absolutely No One. That brought out a startled laugh too. 

Well, Glynda would miss him, if only because his untimely death would deny her the joy of saying, "I told you so," to his face. "Don't drive home in this, Ozpin," he muttered, voice lost to the wind. "Stay at the conference another day. It's not worth it." No shit. He realized that _now_. Glynda could say it to his frozen corpse though, all stern expression and disgusted huffs, and that right there was the damn funniest thing Ozpin had ever imagined. Glynda. Sternly criticizing his corpse. Oh, that would be his eulogy and no one had the power to stop her.

It was while Ozpin was doubled over laughing (wheezing really, shaking) that a tiny little blob caught his attention, right at the edge of his vision. He was actually surprised he'd noticed it against the snow, but as Ozpin peered more closely he saw that those woods were deep and dark, allowing the tiny blot of light to shine through, magnificent. It weaved and ducked like something living and for a good minute Ozpin stared at it, entranced. He'd spent his life engrossed in folklore and every story he'd read had warned him not to follow the Fae. He'd literally been preparing for this moment.

...which was why Ozpin mentally said, 'fuck it' and followed the light anyway. Anything was better than this cold.

It was hard to keep up though. A sprite maybe? No, a will-o'-the-wisp. Most certainly. Its movements were too elegant to be anything else and Ozpin had to crash through the snow and underbrush to keep it in sight, his legs quivering with every step. His own noise was so fierce in his ears that he almost missed the call.

_Zwei... Zwei?_

Ozpin had no idea what a Zwei was, but the voice was soft on the wind, so gentle in comparison to everything else that for just a moment Ozpin closed his eyes, dizzy and swaying. When he opened them again his guide was suddenly closer, a fearsome ball of light that made him stumble. He'd been wrong then, because behind the light was something massive, black and shifting. Ozpin recognized the outline of a crow and fell to his knees.

"Holy _fuck_."

Wait. Did spirits curse?

Ozpin looked up, blinking, and was shocked to see the light separate from the shadow, revealing not a mythical beast but just a man, gaping at him with a flashlight.

Embarrassment rushed through him, the warmest he'd felt in hours, and a tiny part of Ozpin's brain demanded that he stand to introduce himself. His body wouldn't move though. Instead he settled for a smile.

"Hello," he said, not hearing how slurred his speech had become. "I'm Professor Ozpin of Beacon Academy and I would very much appreciate your assistance."

He caught the man's stunned nod and then Ozpin promptly, blissfully passed out.

***

_He's really weird looking._

_He's almost blue of course it looks weird!_

_Nooo, like his hair. It's super white, is that snow?_

_If it was snow it'd be melting all over the pillow._

_Maybe that part of him is still frozen._

_Alright, you two, give him some space. Looks like he's coming to..._

Ozpin couldn't make head or tails of the conversation, his whole world feeling like it was muffled in cotton. It took a long, endless minute for him to re-discover his body: toes that he could wiggle, a thick tongue in his mouth... an excruciating, pounding head. The only thing worse than the pain lacing through him was the unimaginable cold.

It was like thinking it made it real—too real—and Ozpin's whole body gave a violent shiver. He instinctually turned towards the warmth on his left and buried into it.

"Aww," two voices chorused.

"Oh shut it. Shivering is a good sign."

Wait. What?

Ozpin finally opened his eyes and found, to his shock, another man's face just inches from his own. Rearing back he found two other faces crowding in over the man's shoulder: a girl with a mane of blonde hair and another one, younger, with startling silver eyes.

Ozpin tried to scramble away. "Try" being the key word. His limbs weren't obeying him quite right.

"Whoa, whoa. Shit, man, cool it for just a second you're gonna nail me in the face."

Indeed, the man dodged one of Ozpin's elbows, but he was grinning as he did. Ozpin was suddenly arrested by his own brown, almost _reddish_ eyes, and he stilled obediently.

"I—" Ozpin croaked. He couldn't form words either.

"You're okay. No danger here. Look, I'm Qrow, alright? And you're Professor Ozpin of Beacon Academy." For some reason the guy—Qrow—said it like it was a joke between them and Ozpin's muddled thoughts could only vaguely recall saying that. "This here is Ruby and Yang, in order from small to large, but don't underestimate either of them. There. See? Introductions done. It's not as weird when you wake up in bed with a friend rather than a stranger."

Ozpin swallowed hard. He _was_ in a bed, a gloriously soft featherbed with a comforter and two, no three thick blankets piled on top. Slowly testing his limbs, Ozpin discovered socks and soft pajamas that seemed to match what Qrow was wearing, clothes that he most certainly had _not_ been wearing before. Qrow seemed to read his thoughts, sneaking one hand out of the cocoon to raise it innocently.

"Didn't peak," he swore. "Well, not any more than I had to. Couldn't be helped. You were drenched."

"You looked dead!" The blond girl (Yang?) said, dangling from the edge of the bed. Ruby flopped onto Qrow's shoulders and nodded excitedly.

" _Really_ dead," she said. "But we found you in time, isn't that great? We were out looking for Zwei—found him too!—but then Uncle Qrow called and said we had to get all this stuff ready because he found this weirdo," Qrow winced, "out in the woods, and then he came home with you and you’re here and are you warmer now?"

As if on cue some sort of corgi jumped into the mix, sniffing Ozpin's hair before settling down, pressed against the back of his neck. The warmth of his fur reminded Ozpin that the rest of him was still decidedly cool. Frigid in fact, with pinpricks racing along his skin. Still, Ozpin was aware that he was in a better state than he'd been before, and for that he was grateful. Grateful enough that he did not comment on the way Qrow had slowly, tentatively been sneaking his arms back around Ozpin's waist and shoulders, pulling him firmly against his chest. Body warmth. Of course. But how _embarrassing_.

"T-thank you," Ozpin managed, coughing a bit until his voice returned. "And... my apologies."

Qrow snorted. "Nearly freeze to death and you gotta apologize for it? Do you, dude, alright. Shit though, how'd you even end up out there? You're in Patch by the way." Qrow nodded at Ozpin's confused expression, his hair just tickling the sides of Ozpin's cheek. "Exactly. Teeny-tiny town that absolutely no one knows about. We're out in the middle of goddamn nowhere, Oz."

Oz. Somehow the shortening of his name seemed more intimate than the fact that Qrow was literally holding him in his arms, one broad hand gently rubbing circles into Ozpin's back. For the first time Ozpin felt blood rushing back into his cheeks and he was suddenly more relaxed in their company.

He smiled past Qrow as the two girls clamored fully onto the bed. Ruby in particular looked eager for a story.

Not that there was much to tell and... well, Ozpin was hardly an enthralling protagonist. Still, he told them about his idiotic decision to drive home from a conference, despite the warning of a storm. A dead car, a dead cell phone to boot, no idea where he'd ended up... it was like the whole universe was working against him. After half an hour growing colder in a car that simply refused to start, Ozpin had figured that he stood his best chance by following the road.

And here he was.

Qrow let out a low whistle. "You're lucky we found you. The winters out here are brutal. Not sure you would have lasted much longer," as if imagining just that Qrow pulled him even closer, not at all embarrassed, and Ozpin found himself leaning into him, unrepentant; or simply too tired to care. Qrow laid a hand on his forehead and neck before nodding.

"Enough of the Q&A," he said, torqueing to nudge Yang with his foot. "Go get the bath ready. Oz will need it soon."

"Aye, aye, captain!" Yang said, springing to her feet. "New friend, new friend, hell yeah!" Ruby tumbled after her sister, shouting that she was going to add _all_ the bubbles for him.

Qrow closed his eyes. "They're gonna flood it," he muttered, but seemed more amused than worried. He opened his eyes again, staring fondly at Ozpin. "Yang's right though. This storm isn't passing anytime soon. You can give your family a call later if you want, but no one else is getting out here for a while. You might as well stay."

Ozpin thought about his family—long gone—his colleagues busy with holiday plans, and his own, empty apartment. What might have happened that night hit him with the full force of a punch and Qrow's tone, his kindness, was far too much in that moment. Perhaps the universe wasn’t against him, but rather leading him towards something new. Ozpin bit hard into his already abused lip and was horrified when a few tears still slipped through, his whole body shaking.

Qrow only chuckled, running a warm hand through his hair. "No worries, that's normal. The cold will really fuck with you, huh? Just let it out before the girls see—Ruby's real sensitive—but you'll feel better after you do. More like yourself once the bath warms you up. Get some food in you too. I'm looking forward to meeting the non-frozen _Professor Ozpin_."

So Ozpin tucked his head between the blankets and Qrow's chest, pretending that the shaking in his shoulders was entirely due to cold. Yes. He was looking forward to meeting Qrow as well, the one not burdened with bringing him back from a frigid death.

From his cocoon Ozpin could hear the scream of the wind. The storm was growing stronger. It wasn't the enemy now though.

It just meant that they had plenty of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don't already know: if you love ozqrow you should check out my [ozqrow secret santa!](https://ozqrowsecretsanta.tumblr.com/) Sign ups begin November 1st :)


	8. Halloween Drabbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting Gifts of the Fae, but I couldn't let Halloween pass without a little something extra. So here, have some hastily written drabbles :D

**#1. Prompt: "Mortal enemies 'accidentally' showing up in matching costumes every fucking year..."**

 

"You've gotta keep your cool, Oz.” Qrow said, eyeing the way his boyfriend was tugging at his collar. With anyone else it would be a simple gesture of annoyance, but with Ozpin that was pretty much a sign of full-blown rage.

 

“I am cool,” he groused. “In fact I’m near to freezing. I don’t know why I let you talk me into wearing this absurd costume.”

 

“Because it’s the one thing Salem wouldn’t be caught dead in, even by mistake.”

 

“ _Mistake?_ ”

 

Ozpin’s raised voice drew a lot of attention, even over the music. Or maybe that was Oz’s costume. Either way more than one camera flash went off and Qrow waved the nosy onlookers off, snatching a random drink to shove into Ozpin’s hands. He muttered something unsavory around the rim.

 

 “You’re paranoid, man.”

 

“And you underestimate her,” Ozpin shot back. “Do you think it’s a coincidence that she began wearing green just as I did?”

 

“Okay, we’ve talked about how you can’t own colors—”

 

“Or that she dyed her hair white the same year I went gray?”

 

That was admittedly weird but, “Women are into that now.”

 

“Or that she has mysteriously chosen the same Halloween costume as me _three years in a row_?”

 

Qrow pursed his lips, staring out into the crowd. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to laugh. “Maybe she likes you.”

 

“She does this to infuriate me!”

 

 _And it’s working_ , Qrow thought. Heaven help the man who said that to Ozpin’s face though.

 

“Listen,” he said, briefly laying a hand on Ozpin’s bare shoulder. “We beat her this time, yeah? Didn’t tell anyone about your costume, bought it just last night… and like I said, little Ms. She-Devil wouldn’t be caught dead in—”

 

The tone of the party changed, just enough that Qrow knew someone was parting the crowd before he saw them. When he did a little spike of amused horror ran through him. Like when you see an accident happening and it’s hilarious until you realize someone got hurt. Just. Like. That.

 

Shit.

 

“Hey Oz,” Salem sang, strutting out in a pair of the tallest heels Qrow had ever seen. There was more than one cat-call as she pushed between them, bending deliberately to snatch a brownie from the table. Salem straightened, the skirt of her costume just barely adhering to her thighs. Really, the woman had her faults (a whole slew of them), but she was also a devout Catholic. Qrow had been banking on the fact that even if she caught wind of Ozpin’s outfit she wouldn’t desecrate that belief by going as a _sexy nun_.

 

Oz was right. He’d underestimated her.

 

“Nice costume,” Salem said. She left as quick as she’d arrived, dropping them a wink and trailing devastation behind her. As the crowd swallowed her back up Qrow turned to Ozpin, biting hard into his lower lip.

 

“So that happened,” he admitted. “But honestly, Oz, I can’t regret getting you into that skirt.”

 

“Qrow.”

 

“Seriously. You wore it better.”

 

“ _Enough_.”

 

 

 

**#2. Prompt: "You're a cop here to break up the party but I thought it was a costume and may have made some inappropriate suggestions regarding your handcuffs..."**

 

“Heeeey there. You… wow. You’re a good one. Real—real authentic.”

 

The man didn’t seem very impressed with Qrow’s compliment, or the vague hand waving that came with it. That last part might have been a mistake though because Qrow’s arm moved one way and suddenly his whole body was following. Jimmy’s basement wall was suddenly _right there_ when strong arms caught him around the waist.

 

“Whoa,” Qrow said.

 

“Sir, please try to focus.”

 

Focus? He couldn’t. Everything had gone very white. Wait. Not light white, wavy white. It was the guy’s _hair_ and Qrow reached for it instinctually, rubbing a clump between his fingers.

 

“Soft, he murmured. “Its gotta go.”

 

The man blinked. “Excuse me?”

 

“Mmm, costume. It’s the flaw. Coppers don’t have nice _hair_.”

 

“Sir, are you inebriated?” He sighed when Qrow only stared back at him, listing on the couch he’d somehow ended up on. Jimmy’s couch was not soft at all, jeez.

 

The man pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course you are,” he said, seemingly to himself. “Sir, are you _high_?”

 

“Well yeah. High off you.” Qrow palmed the guy’s slacks, ignoring the outraged yelp. “Relax, relax. Roleplay’s fun, but ease up a bit. Unless you’re gonna tell me I have the right to remain silent…” Qrow gave his best grin, dropping a sloppy wink. “Can’t promise I’ll succeed, but how ‘bout we try? I’d just _love_ for you to frisk me, copper, spread ‘em so you can check me over…” Qrow punctuated each phrase with another grasp, using the man’s body for leverage as he pulled himself back up. “I can think of a whole lot of things to do with those cuffs you know, and Jimmy’s got a guest bedroom upstairs.” He ground against him just once, teasing. “Heh… is that your gun there or are you just happy to see me?”

 

“I—“

 

The guy’s face was tomato red in the dim lighting. He opened his mouth again, appearing dumbfounded, but at the last second there was a muffled crash from upstairs. Someone pocked their head down the railing.

 

Huh. Another cop. Group costume thing? That was cool, and this blonde woman was almost as hot as the guy.

 

Qrow made a finger gun in her direction. “Hiya. You gonna arrest me too, beautiful?”

 

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

 

“ _Nice_. I—wait, what?”

 

Qrow got the handcuffs he wanted, but it was only when the woman marched him past Jimmy spread out on the kitchen table that he thought maybe they weren’t actually heading to the bedroom. Out through the backdoor and Qrow squinted at the red and blue lights.

 

“Oh fuck you’re _actually cops_.”

 

The woman huffed. “We’ve got a bright one here, Ozpin.”

 

“Indeed…”

 

Qrow blinked fuzzily up at the guy—Ozpin?—as he helped him into the cruiser. He was extra careful of his head which was nice of him. Ozpin hesitated then, glancing once at his partner before quickly tearing a page from his notebook. He scribbled something and leaned to shove it into Qrow’s jean pocket, lingering over him for just a moment.

 

“My number,” Ozpin whispered. “Not that I think you’ll recall this night, but…”

 

He pulled back, straightening his uniform with trembling hands. Ozpin cast one more look at Qrow before shutting the door.

 

Everything was tilting now. The lights and Jimmy’s yelling made Qrow’s head pound. He leaned against the cool glass and looked up at Ozpin, distorted from early morning dew.

 

“I’ll remember,” he promised and the next morning he did.

 

 

 

**#3. Prompt: "We're secret friends with benefits and you accidentally wore my shirt to the party so we're pretending you came as me..."**

 

“I apologize for being late,” Ozpin said. He slid neatly in between Port and Oobleck, smiling serenely at Glynda. “A crucial meeting. I assure you it couldn’t wait, but I’m glad to see that everything was running smoothly in my absence.”

 

Indeed, Beacon’s annual Halloween party was in full swing, the kids laughing and dancing with an enthusiasm that did Ozpin’s heart good. There had been too much horror already this year and if they could have a night—even if only one—where the children shed the burden of their chosen profession… well, then he would sleep peacefully for once.

 

Ozpin was chuckling at Ms. Nikos’s attempts to dance with Ms. Valkyrie when he felt a light touch near his neck. He whirled, finding Glynda inspecting his undershirt. She appeared overly interested in the material.

 

“Glyn—?”

 

He cut himself off, realizing for the first time that he was _not_ wearing the forest green shirt that went beneath this jacket. Ozpin watched with a cold sort of horror as Glynda ran Qrow’s grey shirt between her fingers.

 

“An important meeting,” she said, just loud enough for him to hear. “Is that so?”

 

Right. This was fine. He hadn’t survived a thousand years of varying politics to cower before a single woman. Even if she was Glynda Goodwitch.

 

“Yes,” Ozpin said. He kept his voice steady in the face of Port and Oobleck’s curious looks. “Why, you don’t expect the kids to have all the fun, do you? Didn’t any of you dress up?” Ozpin shed his jacket and draped it over the nearest chair, rolling Qrow’s sleeves up to his elbow. A little bit of water in his palm and he succeeded in slicking his hair back. Paired with his normal black slacks he looked just enough like his lover for Port to let out a full-bellied laugh. Oobleck lowered his glasses and peered closer.

 

“Ha! Not bad at all, Ozpin. All you need now is that necklace of his.”

 

“No, no,” Port said. “He needs a silver flask. Gotta give up your mug for the night.”

 

Ozpin stared at him over the rim. “Never, Peter.”

 

“Very authentic,” Glynda drawled. She didn’t look at all convinced, but then again, Ozpin hadn’t expected that she would. “I’m surprised that Qrow was willing to lend you his shirt…”

 

“What can I say. I’m just a nice guy like that.”

 

Ozpin held completely still as Qrow sidled up, leaning past him to grab his jacket off the chair. Dressed in _Ozpin’s_ shirt, Qrow slid into the final piece of his ‘costume’ with a nonchalance that made Glynda twitch. He plucked the mug out of Ozpin’s hands and shoved the flask there instead.

 

“You should really take better care of yourself,” Qrow admonished, adopting a slight snooty voice that made Oobleck hide a laugh in his palm.

 

Ozpin merely raised an eyebrow. “Make me, old man.” He gave it his best Qrow drawl and it worked, Port and Oobleck dissolving into laughter as even Glynda broke a smile.

 

“Nicely done,” she said making it clear what she was congratulating them for.

 

“Thank you, Glynda. We… worked hard on this.”

 

And wasn’t that the truth.

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Many Happy Returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt is #45 from [here!](http://itsclydebitches.tumblr.com/post/168419412040/prompts-list)

Ozpin was so focused on the latest reports—possible sightings of the Winter Maiden in Atlas; a new type of grimm spotted out in Forever Fall, and he’d be _damned_ if he let that near his school—that he startled when something small and green slid into his peripheral vision. Ozpin’s hand jumped to the cane at his side… and then stilled. Luckily, he’d become as skilled at reigning in his reflexes as he was at utilizing them.

 

There was a small box now seated beside his elbow, decked in green wrapping paper and a rather lopsided, silver bow. Ozpin blinked at it.

 

“It got a little mashed on the trip back,” Qrow said, confirming that, yes, he was here as well. How strange. Ozpin looked up and watched as he fidgeted under the stare. “Look, it’s not my fault your magic is wonky. Turning into a goddamn bird isn’t great for carrying trinkets, alright? Still don’t know where the hell my clothes and stuff _go_ when that happens…”

 

Qrow muttered the last bit under his breath and Ozpin felt a rush of warmth as he watched him shift from foot to foot. It was good to see him, regardless of the smell he carried wand the heavy bags under his eyes. Trinkets weren’t the only things that suffered from travel.

 

“It’s magic, Qrow,” he said. “Its whole purpose is that it surpasses our usual way of understanding the world. In truth, there’s a great deal of fascinating theory regarding your transformations that I’d love to discuss,” (Ozpin ignored the heavy eye-roll), “but I’m afraid that won’t help _me_ understand why you’re back from Mistral two days early. Or why you’ve brought…”  He gestured to the small box, not quite sure what to call it.

 

A gift? A present? Both implied a sentimental object bestowed without any strings attached—and Ozpin had long learned that those were rare in this world. Perhaps even rarer than magic.

 

It was Qrow’s turn to blink.

 

“You’re really gonna make me say it, aren’t you?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, staring out the large windows behind Ozpin’s desk. “Sweet dust, Oz. I’m a mess, but even I can keep track of your goddamn birthday.”

 

“My—?” An unbidden smile flew over Ozpin’s lips, born more of surprise than anything else.

 

“Qrow. While the sentiment is greatly appreciated it’s _not_ my birthday.”

 

“…It’s definitely your birthday.”

 

“I assure you it’s not.”

 

“It—“ Qrow grit his teeth and pointed a stern finger. “Congratulations. This is the year you finally go senile. I know the damn date, Oz.”

 

Ozpin was already bringing up his calendar though, heaving out a sigh. “I’m afraid you don’t and I can easily prove to you that—“ He stopped, observing the date. “Oh.”

 

“ _Oh_ ,” Qrow echoed, sounding disgustingly smug about it. “I told you.”

 

“Well I’m still technically correct, so.”

 

And just like that Ozpin’s own stubborn nature (damn the thing) landed him in hot water. The happy satisfaction melted off Qrow’s face to be replaced with wary confusion. He hopped up directly onto the desk and leaned into Ozpin’s space, no doubt intentionally.

 

“Okay... the hell is that supposed to mean?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“ _Oz_.”

 

He opened his mouth only to close it, considering his next words more carefully. Gently, Ozpin touched the very edge of the box. Wasn’t it customary to repay one gift with another?

 

“It truly isn’t anything,” he said, waving a hand. Still, Ozpin couldn’t make his voice any louder and Qrow leaned in close, the two of them nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. “You know my age, of course.  Have you ever considered the amount that our culture has changed over thousands of years?” It was clear from Qrow’s expression that he hadn’t. “I see. Well, when I was born, Qrow, birthdays simply weren’t what they are now. The date of your birth wasn’t considered something worthy of celebration. Much of that was born of fear, the knowledge that many infants would die young. My own mother didn’t bother naming me until I was almost two.” Ozpin shrugged. “It was a different time then.”

 

Qrow fiddled with something in his pocket. After a moment Ozpin realized he was popping the lid of his flask over and over. “Seems like the kind of thing they’d _want_ to celebrate then,” he said, equally soft.

 

“Perhaps, though people aren’t always logical, are they? You must also understand that our concept of childhood has also changed dramatically. Taking a full day—resources and that most precious commodity, time—just to celebrate the day you gained another mouth to feed?” Ozpin’s chuckled. “No, no, no. It wasn’t done. I don’t _know_ my birthday, Qrow, for the simple reason that it was never a date worth memorizing. What you see here,” he tapped the calendar. “It’s merely a façade. I’ve taken on the birthdays of some of my other hosts, but this date is fairly arbitrary. Just another way of confirming my… normalcy.” Ozpin’s tone twisted on the last word.

 

Qrow was quiet. He slid the box forward. “Open it.”

 

...Right.  

 

Ozpin did, bemused and hands just a little bit clumsy. In the confusion he’d very nearly forgotten the gift itself. 

 

A gift from Qrow. A perfect, silver circle on the end of a rawhide string. 

 

“Wasn’t kidding when I said it was a trinket,” Qrow said, voice suddenly rough. “I saw it and…” he mumbled something into his shoulder. 

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“And I thought of you, okay?”

 

“You thought of _me_?” Ozpin found his own voice skittering, watching the circle as it spun and spun and caught the light.

 

Qrow looked distinctly uncomfortable now. “Yeah well, I guess. You’re… cyclical and shit, right? But then the lady selling it spouted all this bull about how it represents balance and diversity. That everything is connected to a larger whole; everyone has a part to play, blah, blah, blah.” The bluster was back, the cocky attitude, and, Ozpin was surprised to see, Qrow was making a beeline for the door. “So, I don’t know, don’t beat yourself up over being different I guess? Fuck ‘normal’ is what I say. Whatever. Stuff it in your sock drawer or pawn it off for a candy bar, alright?”

 

Ozpin stared after him, dumbly. “You’re leaving?”

 

“Yeah, I’ve got better things to do than stare at your mug all day. Sightings of a new grimm nearby, right?” and Qrow raised his scroll in farewell… though Ozpin caught his flushed cheeks right before the elevator closed. "Although--ha!--if you don't know your birthday then I might still be right so suck it, Oz!" 

 

And he was gone.  

 

“Diversity,” Ozpin murmured, staring at the closed doors. He spun the circle again, watching it flash. Well. He certainly wasn’t going to stuff it into his sock drawer. Ozpin slipped it under his shirt instead, resting the necklace directly above his heart. He briefly then touched the packaging once more before placing it safely in his desk.

 

It was only when his office grew quiet again that Ozpin recalled Qrow’s words.

 

Staring at him?

 

….perhaps he’d have to pay more attention to his birthday in the future. Who knew what other gifts he might receive.


	10. Babysitting Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt is #6 from [here!](http://itsclydebitches.tumblr.com/post/168419412040/prompts-list)

Qrow was beginning to wonder exactly how emotionally stunted a man had to be to make him look well put together.

 

Because holy _shit_.

 

"We'll be gone five hours," he said, then immediately backtracked at the horrified look on Ozpin's face. No one else would have noticed it, but Qrow knew every damn nuance and exactly what kind of frown that one was. "At the _most_ , Oz. Seriously, it's no big deal. Yang's over at Blake's house for a sleepover—be grateful you don't have to deal with her too—there's some horrifying, mashed peas concoction in the fridge, she'll probably drop off to sleep right after she eats that, you've got both our numbers on speed dial, her favorite blanket, videos, Zwei in a pinch..." Said dog gave a happy growl and flopped across Qrow’s boots. "You and Ruby will be _fine_."

 

Ozpin still didn't look convinced, even if Ruby was more than happy with the arrangement. She gurgled and tugged at random clumps of white hair. Qrow winced as she stuffed the fist-full into her mouth and slobbered every which way. Ozpin didn't notice.

 

"What do I do if she starts crying?" he asked, voice just this side of panicked. "If she's upset? Have you and Tai ever left her alone before?"

 

Qrow chose not to answer that last question. It could only make things worse. "She's not alone, Oz. Obviously. That's kind of the point. And Ruby's perpetually buzzed, I swear to god. Happiest kid in the world. If she does cry for some strange reason just comfort her." 

 

"How do I do that?"

 

Qrow bit into his lip. “Well you start with a hug—”

 

"With a _what_?" 

 

He had to quickly turn and stuff his keys into his pocket, hiding the fact that he was about to burst out laughing. Leave it to Oz to make hugs sound strange and vaguely ominous. Like he didn't glomp onto Qrow every night like a goddamn octopus. It took a second, but Qrow managed to turn back with a mostly stoic expression.

 

"That, Oz. You're doing it right now."

 

Ozpin did a double-take, looking at how he'd cuddled Ruby safely against his chest, one arm supporting her legs while the other reverently cradled her head. He was even bouncing her a little, instinctually. Ruby beamed up at him with a mouth-full of his hair and Ozpin's expression melted.

 

"Ah," he said. "I see."

 

"It'll be fine," Qrow repeated. "I wouldn't be asking you to babysit at all, but Glynda's off on vacation, Bart's at a conference, and Tai really needs a night off, the man is driving me _nuts_ —"

 

Ozpin waved away the rest of his explanation. "I understand. As you say, everything is under control." He straightened a little until Ozpin The Headmaster had arrived, all cool confidence and wisdom. "Ruby and I will have a lovely night together. Alone. Just... the two of us. But that's fine. I will feed her, bathe her—"

 

Qrow wasn't sure anyone other than Tai should have to deal with Ruby let loose in the bath... but best not to bring that up now. Ozpin was on a roll. 

 

"—allow her to watch some of her favorite cartoons, give her a small—perhaps sweet—snack if she's been good, and then put her to bed. I will then watch over her and the house until you return." Ozpin hesitated. "You will return by midnight, yes?"

 

" _Yes_."

 

"Right. Excellent."

 

Well if the checklist was working for him... With a chuckle Qrow hopped forward and caught whatever else Ozpin might have said with a kiss. Ruby squealed at having the two of them so close together and Qrow made a hasty retreat before she could latch onto him as well. Besides, Tai was hollering from the car.

 

"I'm just a text message away," he said, patting the phone in his pocket. "But don't text every five minutes, Oz. Whatever you think you should do or want to do? Just do it. Tai and I trust you."

 

The smile Ozpin shot him was a little dazed, but Qrow would take it.

 

"Have a good time!"

 

“We will?”  

 

The slam of the door rang loud in Ozpin's ears. He was alone, with nothing but the clock and the faint sound of the neighbors to distract him. 

 

Well, not truly alone. That was rather the whole point. 

 

"We will," he told Ruby firmly, fixing the cuff of her sweater. "You’ll have to forgive me though. I've never babysat before. My children at Beacon are far older than you. I don't suppose you'd enjoy a discussion of reader response criticism, would you?"

 

Ruby reached for the shiny cross on his scarf. Ozpin relinquished it with a sigh.

 

"No. I thought not."

 

But Ruby, it turned out, _was_ a rather happy child, even when she only had him to entertain her. An hour or so passed and slowly, in tiny increments, Ozpin found himself relaxing as none of the horrific things he'd imagined came to pass. While making himself some pasta for dinner he discovered the unencumbered joy that apparently accompanied playing with pots and pans. Yes, it didn't do much for his hearing, but Ruby was certainly thrilled.

 

Ozpin smiled down at her on the floor, stirring the sauce. "Hello there," he said, laughing as she crawled into a pan. It was big enough for Ruby to seat herself in. "Is that your vessel now? Shall I call you 'Captain'?"

 

Ruby's shriek seemed to be her answer. It was so loud that Ozpin nearly missed the chime of his phone.

 

_Everything okay?_

 

Ozpin gently drew fingers over the words. He was all set to tell Qrow that yes, everything was going smoothly... when a rather evil little thought entered his head. No. He shouldn't. Certainly not... but Qrow _had_ said to do whatever he wanted...

 

He crouched down, allowing Ruby to catch hold of his fingers. "I have an idea. Would you help me a moment, darling?"

 

Ruby’s second shriek was an enthusiastic ‘yes.’ 

 

Meanwhile, miles away, sequestered in a bar with his first drink in weeks, Tai bumped Qrow's shoulder as he suddenly squawked. He seemed to be reacting to something on his phone.

 

"What's up? Ozpin okay?" 

 

"Oh yeah. The bastard's _great_." 

 

Qrow slid his cell over to show the picture Ozpin had just sent him: Ruby, seated in a pan, sliding into what appeared to be a pre-heating oven. There was a caption below saying something about eating their kid for dinner.

 

Tai stared, then slowly slide the phone back. He took a long drink from his mug.

 

"You two assholes were made for each other."

 

"Don't I fucking know it."

 

And that, paradoxically, told them that Ozpin and Ruby were indeed just fine.


	11. Testing, Testing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live!
> 
> In a manner of speaking anyway. Updates slow considerably the more fandoms you're writing for (god damn you, bnha), but I'll never give up on ozqrow <3 
> 
> Prompt was from a [list](http://itsclydebitches.tumblr.com/post/168419412040/prompts-list) I reblogged a while back. This was number 75. To be honest I had no idea how to turn this one into Ozqrow, so things got weird... but then again, when do they not?

"Your tests get stranger every year."

Qrow said it while hanging over the back of Ozpin's chair, the both of them intent on his desktop's display. Normally a visual such as this would have sent Qrow into a panic attack, protective instincts flaring and a drive to fly overriding everything else... but right now all he really felt was amusement.

The poor kids.

Ozpin nodded, circling a hand up to briefly brush against Qrow's neck. He didn't look away though. "Yes, I fear that given recent events the children have more to fear from their fellows than the Grimm." There was a faint reflection of Ozpin in the computer's screen and Qrow just caught the narrowing of his eyes. "Roman Torchwick and his associates have certainly proved formidable, and you know as well as I that fighting people is not quite the same as fighting monsters... even if people have a tendency to conflate the two. This will be excellent practice for the girls."

Maybe, or Oz would end up with a burned down house, courtesy of Yang. For all the elaborate setup involved—fixing up one of the houses Ozpin owned; installing it with numerous, hidden cameras; successfully drugging each team and getting them off campus—the actual test was fairly straightforward. The girls would wake up in an unfamiliar place, drugged, weaponless, trapped in a house locked by the strongest dust that money could buy. They were graded depending on how they reacted to the situation. What attempts would they make to escape? Would they bicker amongst themselves? If Ozpin decided to send one of his old associates in how would they fare in a fight? While planning this weeks ago Ozpin had assured him that there was no right or wrong way to go about this scenario; any way the kids responded would be useful in their further development.

Still. Qrow didn't think Ozpin would be pleased if Yang r _eally_ tried to burn the house down.

And she would. There was a reason he insisted that she and Ruby wake up together, no matter how unrealistic it might be.

"They're waking up now," Ozpin murmured.

Sure enough Yang was the first to stir. Her leg twitched, involuntary, before her eyes popped open, her groggy mind attempting to take in everything at once. The stuffy bedroom wasn't the sort of place that gave anything away—though that alone was a kind of tipoff. They weren't in some dungeon. They weren't trapped in another one of Torchwick's cold, damp hideouts. They were just in a house and the first test was whether they'd let their guard down at that.

Of course, being tied up tended to keep one on their toes.

" _Ruby_ ," Yang hissed. She broke through her bonds easily—a quick flair of aura, a _snap!_ , and the ropes fell loose. Yang immediately untied her sister, all while shaking her sharply. " _Ruby!_ _C'mon, you dumbass, wake up._ "

" _Mmm... just another minute..._ " and Yang smacked her head in frustration, growling.

Qrow moved to sit on the edge of Ozpin's chair instead. Pressed along the line of his shoulder he could feel the chuckle reverberating through his body. It felt natural for once. Rare. "Ah, this is perhaps my fault. I forgot that with Ruby's age and weight the drug would have a stronger impact on her. Dear me."

"You're sure this shit isn't going to have any lasting effects?"

"None at all. Oh, they'll be groggy for a bit and, if I'm correct, have a rather massive appetite, but beyond that no. It's perfectly safe."

Qrow nodded. "Ruby always has a massive appetite, so."

"Indeed."

On the opposite screen was the living room where Weiss and Blake were already hard at work undoing their own bonds, Weiss muttering something indistinct—though no doubt unsavory—under her breath the whole time. She took one look around the room before snagging hold of Blake's arm and marching them into the kitchen, past the powder room, a second bedroom, pausing only when Ruby and Yang literally came tumbling out of the second door. As the girls assessed their physical health Ozpin shook his head. 

"Honestly," he said, leaning his chin in his hand. "I expected more of them. Ms. Schnee should know better than to go barging into an unknown location without securing a weapon, or at least scoping out the area to the best of her ability. What are those girls thinking?"

Qrow was wondering much of the same. In fact, their body language and the little dialogue the hidden mics picked up all seemed... off somehow. It took him a moment to pinpoint exactly what was bothering him and when he did Qrow had to quickly smother a laugh. _That_ was it. It was Yang's purple eyes and Ruby's loose shoulders... Blake easy-going tone, Weiss' back to the door...

"Uh, Oz?"

He'd already noticed though. Ozpin suddenly leaned forward in his chair, eyes narrowed at the screen. His lip curled a little in disbelief.

"What are they doing?"

Qrow bit hard into his lower lip. "...eating."

"They're being held hostage and they decide to _raid the kitchen_?"

"Well, you didn't say the fridge was off limits. And that drug makes them hungry, right?"

Ozpin shot him an incredulous look that finally had Qrow busting out laughing.

Because on screen the girls were indeed raiding Ozpin's fridge now, Yang pulling out everything that might be good in a sandwich—though really, some of that was only to _her_ taste. Qrow watched Ozpin while Ozpin watched them, dumbfounded as the kids proceeded to make themselves lunch, Ruby hauling herself up onto the counter while Weiss pulled up three stools. It was only when they had laps of chips, sandwiches, and soda that Yang tilted her head towards the ceiling.

" _You're not subtle, teach!_ " 

Weiss winced, drawing away from her. " _There's no need to yell, Yang. If there are microphones they'll pick up our normal speech, I'm sure_." She gave a little sniff. " _If the headmaster is at all smart he'll be using Atlas tech. I know it well._ "

Ozpin twitched. Beautiful. 

" _Still not subtle_ ," Yang groused, reaching for the chips. " _C'mon. What kidnappers are going to keep us together like that? With super weak bonds too—and then just leave?_ " Yang shook her head.

Ruby held up her finger. " _They would if they're stupid._ " 

" _So you were convinced?_ "

" _Naaah_." Ruby chugged more soda before smacking her own cheek, trying to get the fog to clear from her mind. " _There's way too much green in this place._ "

". _..That's how you knew?_ "

" _Well c'mon! How many people want green curtains AND green bedspreads?_ "

No one really had a comeback for that.

"Harsh," Qrow whispered and had the pleasure of seeing Ozpin twitch again.

Weiss eventually shrugged. " _It was the logical conclusion. The chances of someone successfully breaking into Beacon, drugging us all within the same timeframe, getting us off campus without incident... honestly, calculating the odds are absurd. Either this is an incredibly well executed attack conducted by someone within Beacon itself... or it's a test of some kind. I'm obviously assuming the latter._ "

" _What if we're wrong?_ " Blake asked. The large bite she took of her sandwich didn't convey much anxiety though.

Yang grinned. " _Then we'll kick the ass of anyone who comes through that door._ "

" _Cool._ "

" _How'd you know?_ " Ruby said, tilting her head back so she could see Blake upside-down. Blake kept eating while using her free hand to tap her nose.

" _The smell,_ " she said. " _It's really faint, but the headmaster has definitely been here...I wonder when he'll come back._ "

Yang grabbed another handful of chips. " _Hopefully only after we've eaten his food._ "

" _Think we'll get in trouble for figuring things out?_ "

" _We should get extra credit for figuring things out._ "

"Yeah, Oz." Qrow pressed harder into his shoulder. Ozpin had buried his head just as soon as the girls had started their explanations, his shoulders shaking with, what Qrow assumed, was a mixture of amusement and frustration. "You gonna give my kids extra credit, or what?"

"...I suppose I must."

"That might be best, yeah."

Ozpin hadn't realized yet, but Weiss had just spotted one of the hidden cameras and then suddenly there they were: four girls waving and grinning cheekily through the screen. Self-satisfied didn't even begin to describe those expressions.

It didn't matter if they couldn't see him. With a chuckle Qrow waved back.

 


	12. Speedy Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic writing has been meh lately, but I couldn't let Valentine's Day pass without a little something :D
> 
> This was for #58 on [this prompt list](http://itsclydebitches.tumblr.com/post/168419412040/prompts-list)

"Whoever thought up the concept of speed dating clearly wasn't intelligent enough to realize what an oxymoron it is. Honestly, how am I supposed to get to know someone in the span of three minutes? Let alone allow them to know me in turn?"

 

"You just have to seduce them, Oz."

 

"You're kidding right? I'm about as seductive as a cabbage."

 

Glynda whirled away with her hand pressed hard against her lips, unwilling to confirm or deny that claim. Perhaps her passive aggress comments regarding Ozpin's... _fondness_ for green clothing had finally hit home, because he wasn't wrong to think that his outfit—like all his others—encouraged thoughts of the vegetable variety.

 

Still, that hardly detracted from the slimming effect of those pants, or how nicely his jacket flared out below his waist. Glynda toyed with telling him to find excuses to stand up throughout the evening. The more men who got a glance at that ass, the less his flirting skills would matter.

 

Instead she said, "Maybe you'll meet a vegetarian."

 

"Hilarious," Ozpin drawled. He smoothed his lapels once more before finally turning from the mirror. Glynda thought he looked a little green around the gills too. "I wouldn't even be attending this absurd event if James hadn't..." he drew an indistinct gesture through the air. " _Meddled_."

 

"You mean bought you a ticket as a gift with the express hope that you wouldn't be alone on Valentine's Day?"

 

"Precisely."

 

Glynda sighed. "You're going to be late," but Ozpin had already snagged his overcoat—a dark blue that was _almost_ green—and was turning towards the door. Only the stiffness in his shoulders and a palm pressed against his stomach gave him away.

 

"How does one flirt?" he finally called back in desperation, already halfway out the door.

 

"Not how you usually attempt it!"

 

Really, it was the most she could offer him.

 

***

 

In the end Glynda's "most" wasn't nearly enough. Not that even a full course in flirting could have saved Ozpin tonight.

 

He actually would have preferred a course, now that he thought about it. Yes, a seminar...Romantic Connections 101, perhaps. He needed an instructor to break things down into small, easily understood bullet points, facts that Ozpin could transfer to notecards and study diligently until memorized. Perhaps if he had homework and the threat of a grade he'd be better able to unlearn whatever foolishness had made him so very bad at this.

 

"Are you...?" The portly man across from him stared a little harder at Ozpin, eyes straying to the white-knuckle grip atop his cane, planted firmly between his legs and acting as a barrier. Like the table wasn't enough. "Are you going to _say_ anything?"

 

Ozpin's silence—ironically—said more than his absent words. The moment the buzzer sounded his companion was tumbling out of his seat and all but fleeing from him. Ozpin barely held back a sigh.

 

The night hadn't been going any better than he'd expected and surprisingly it was only partly due to his lack of romantic skills. Oh, the venue was nice enough, one of the Italian restaurants not too far from his flat, rented out with lighting and hors d'oeuvres to match. But all the bruschetta in the world couldn't make up for the lackluster company, companions that put even his sorry efforts to shame. Thus far Ozpin had encountered twelve men of similar disposition: fake cheer that made him wince, sweaty fingers insistent on a handshake, an utter lack of intelligent conversation. Ozpin could hardly blame them for their nerves—he certainly had a quiver to his knees even if his palms remained dry—but he had little interest in niceties or, "How about that weather, huh?" Perhaps these men would provide more stimulating company if they weren't confined to three minutes. Perhaps not.

 

Though it was rather funny to think that he'd been worried about the time limit being too short. Ozpin had found it quite long enough, thank you.

 

He glanced carefully at his watch.

 

"Nothing to your liking so far, huh?"

 

That voice...

 

Better than the others, Ozpin had to admit. He closed his eyes for just a moment, savoring it, memorizing the rhythm. Deep and rough... like the man had indulged in one too many cigarettes over the years. Not a habit that Ozpin could condone, though he had to admit he appreciated the effect. For a second longer he sat and just soaked in that voice, because no doubt he'd be disappointed with the man himself.

 

 _To assume makes an ass of u and me_ , came to the forefront of Ozpin's mind, unbidden. For this man was _not_ like the others. At least not in appearance. Black hair and brown eyes just this side of red... like sand from some exotic country. He was trim and casually dressed, though that hardly took away from the confidence in his poise. Ozpin's second thought was that a man such as him didn't _need_ speed dating to find a partner. 

 

"No," he said slowly, tapping the pad and pencil he'd been given. It remained blank. "I see you're the same."

 

The man waved his own bare notepad before swinging himself onto the seat. Not primly and properly as the others had, but languidly, with his legs stretched out to the side, one arm along the back holding him up. Ozpin swallowed and put his cane aside.

 

He opened his mouth to introduce himself for the thirteen time and found his efforts waved away.

 

"You don't seem like the chit-chat sort," the man said, grinning at his surprise. "And we've got... two minutes and fifteen seconds left. So how about you just answer me one question?"

 

"Oh?" Ozpin dearly wished to hear what single question could possibly determine if they were compatible. 

 

"Yeah. Tell me how I'm supposed to spell 'pretty guy' with just two letters? Its been bugging me all night," and the man grabbed hold of his lip, literally biting back a smile. 

 

...a riddle then?

 

Ozpin was thrown by the choice, no doubt... but more so by the man's blinding smile as he lost his battle, tapping his watch and leaning forward, the ripple of his shoulders just noticeable through the cut of his shirt. The whole effect ensured that it took Ozpin nearly the rest of their time to come up with a suitable response, and when he did he could feel a blush stealing up fast along his cheeks.

 

"QT," he managed, sure he was blushing even harder as the man threw back his head and _laughed_.

 

"I've only given that riddle to one guy tonight, and I'll only give _this_ to one smart enough to solve it. I like a man with confidence in his looks." He leaned further—so, _so_ close now—to scrawl something down on his pad. Then the buzzer rang and he skipped off, throwing a thumbs up behind him. 

 

Ozpin raised the paper with shaking hands.

 

 _Qrow_ , it said, with ten digits below.

 

 _I hardly needed to speak_ , Ozpin thought a little dumbly. _And he didn't seem put off by my clothing..._

 

A duck of his head. No, not put off at all.

 

He slipped the paper into his pocket, all but ignoring the new man who'd taken Qrow's place. It was only when he'd finally looked up—his cheerful greeting no longer faked—that Ozpin noticed the extra addition to their table.

 

Qrow had left his pad of paper behind.


	13. Tokens of Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with more stupidity! Got another wonderful ask. Prompt list is [here](http://itsclydebitches.tumblr.com/post/168419412040/prompts-list) and this one was #2.

It was an otherwise average Tuesday morning when Jaune walked out onto Beacon's courtyard and found a sword embedded in the grass.

 

It was in turn a fairly average sword: white blade, gold pummel, a dull sheen that told him it needed sharpening. In fact, the sword was so generic that Jaune had to check his hip to make sure his own sword was still there, that it hadn't somehow been stolen and planted here in the five minutes since he'd donned it. (Honestly, Cardin had managed worse.) But finding his own weapon safe and sound, Jaune returned to staring at the offending article with all the intensity of a wannabe Junior Detective. After all, he'd suddenly encountered a mystery.

 

Perhaps it had been left here by some wayward student after practice? Yet upon closer examination Jaune found a thin ring of rust around the pummel and (" _Oh no_ ") what looked like dried blood along the edge. Definitely not a student's then. A teacher's perhaps? No. Jaune was familiar with all their weaponry and even if he weren't no self-respecting Beacon instructor would just leave a sword sticking out of the dirt, tilted to one side in a kind of depressing pose. Maybe it was a joke?

 

Maybe it was a _threat._

 

Jaune was just backing away from what now looked like an ominous scene when he heard a jaunty whistle sounding behind him. A second later the headmaster swept past, coffee mug raised to his lips, his free hand shooting out to grab the sword's hilt.

 

He pulled it from the ground in one smooth motion, never breaking his stride. Seeming to notice Jaune for the first time Ozpin threw him a careless smile. There was a strange amusement behind his eyes.

 

"Lovely morning. Don't you think, Mr. Arc?"

 

Ozpin didn't wait for his response. He just swung the sword up to rest on his shoulder—bits of grass and mud tumbling down his back—and moved ahead at a brisk pace. He was very nearly skipping.

 

Watching his headmaster trot away with the sword he'd found planted in the middle of his school, Jaune decided that at this point there was only one logical course of action for a Junior Detective to take.

 

"Time to find Pyrrha."

 

***

 

Pyrrha regretted doubting Jaune's word (even just privately in the back of her own mind) when she found the chinaware decorating Beacon's front steps.

 

"What,” she said.

 

Beside her Ren reached for a dessert plate painted with roses, thought better of it, and retracted his hand. When he straightened he'd shifted a little closer so that their shoulders brushed and honestly? Pyrrha was grateful for the comfort. There was just something a little _eerie_ about the display.

 

Jaune had found the sword—the sword no one else saw, the one supposedly confiscated by the Headmaster, but who only smiled benignly and shook his head when asked about it—roughly five yards to their left in that little patch of grass beside the courtyard. Now Ren and Pyrrha stood by the steps that would lead them into the main building, finding their way blocked by a whole assortment of kitchenware.

 

It was the miss-matched quality that disturbed her, Pyrrha decided. The rose-painted plate that Ren had reached for seemed innocuous enough by itself, but above it sat a pale blue cup, to its right was a saucer covered with daisies, three steps below _that_ was a jar in the shape of an apple. None of them belonged together. Where had they come from? It certainly hadn't escaped Pyrrha's notice that all of the pieces were damaged in one manner or another: chips in the ceramic; strange scratches along the sides. She felt a shiver rolling down her back. 

 

Ren had narrowed his eyes at the display. "We should get the—"

 

He stopped. Headmaster Ozpin was already approaching, making his way down the steps at an uncharacteristically hurried pace. He was shaking his head.

 

There was a cardboard box tucked under one arm.

 

"Honestly," Pyrrha heard him mutter, so soft it might have been a part of the morning breeze. "Now he's just _trying_ to cause a scene."

 

He?

 

She didn't feel like she was in a position to question such a strange statement, especially once Ozpin bent and began loading the china into the box. He did it with a strange sort of care, going so far as to take his jacket off and cushion everything once it was loaded. Ozpin stood, box in hand, and nodded at them once in turn.

 

"On your way," he told them. Pyrrha blinked at the faint tint of a blush staining his cheeks. "You'll be late for class."

 

Ren opened his mouth—no doubt to inform their harried professor that classes didn't start for another hour—but Ozpin was already hurrying away.

 

There was a distinctly odd silence between the two of them.

 

"Nora?" Pyrrha asked.

 

"Nora." Ren agreed.

 

***

 

They sicced Nora on Ozpin that Thursday morning during the start of their free period. Each sent her on her way with various reminders to _not_ do anything that would result in their expulsion. Ren went so far as to offer her a full Saturday of pancakes if she could discover what was going on _and_ do it without arrests, fires, or any other calamity that had befallen them in the past.

 

Nora weaseled her way up to a full pancake Saturday plus a half-Sunday of baking—and the deal was struck.

 

She found her target just twenty minutes later in the clearing behind Beacon Tower. Ozpin stood with hands on his hips, surveying the utter mess that had befallen his previously pristine campus.

 

There was loose change. Everywhere.

 

The part of Nora that still thought like a dirt-poor street child boggled at the sheer amount scattered across the grass. She could see the lien glinting in the sunlight, all of it small amounts, but adding up to a sizable chunk that would have made for a decent shopping trip. And it was hard to tell from this distance, but Nora got the impression from shape and color that not all of the money was local. Actually, most probably couldn't be spent here in Vale.

 

What the _hell_?

 

However, the part of Nora that still thought like a dirt-poor street child also remembered how to move silently when others were near. (It wasn’t like her _personality_ had gotten her any bread…) As Ozpin grumbled to himself it was easy enough to scale the tree not two paces behind him, moving high on the branches above his head. Nora peered down curiously, noting that he was now texting hurriedly on his scroll.

 

_I hate you_ , Ozpin wrote.

 

_Why? I'm lovely_

 

Nora slammed a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

 

_While the gesture is appreciated I hardly wanted a scavenger hunt this morning!_

 

_Good exercise_

 

_Really._

 

_Get you outta that office chair gotta keep you in shape ;)_

Ozpin bit out something in a language Nora didn't recognize and shoved the scroll back into his pocket. He then set about collecting all the coins with a meticulous, exasperated air. When he was done he had a rather large pile denting his jacket and a thoroughly Done expression on his face.

 

"You can come down now, Ms. Valkyrie," he said.

 

Busted.

 

Nora did—a little sheepish—and took a deep breath as Ozpin threw up a hand. "Do _not_ ask," he growled and then proceeded to dump the small fortune straight into Nora's open shirt. "No questions and this is yours. Deal?"

 

“Deal, sir!”

 

She returned to her team at the very end of the free period, flinging her prize onto Ren's bed so she had space to count it all.  

 

"Uh," Jaune said.

 

Ren was pinching the bridge of his nose. "Did you steal that?"

 

"Nope." Nora rolled onto her back, holding one of the foreign coins up to the light. "The headmaster gave it to me! Which is fine right? It's not like he needs it. He has a _school_. And now we can buy all the pancakes!”  

 

Pyrrha shrugged helplessly at her teammates. She turned back to Nora who was busy rolling in her hoard. "So you didn't find out what's going on?"

 

"Not really," she admitted. "But I _think_ the headmaster is flirting."

 

"Uh," said Jaune again, a lot more high-pitched this time. "....Ruby?"

 

"Ruby," three other voices chorused and Pyrrha ran to get her.

 

***

 

Friday morning.

"An old sword, broken pottery, and a whole bunch of loose change..." Ruby ticked these things off on her fingers, head titled to the ceiling as she swung her legs back and forth on the chair. When she finally looked Professor Ozpin appeared perfectly composed across his desk, pouring her more tea and pushing the cookies her way.

 

He looked a little _too_ composed.   

 

"It sounds like quite the mystery," he acknowledged when it became clear that Ruby wouldn't say anymore. "I wonder what you make of it? Certainly the campus' rumor mill has been working overtime..."

 

She snorted at that, snatching a cookie as she remembered that look on Pyrrha's face as she'd tried to explain the strangeness of the last three days. Weiss had looked utterly flummoxed, Blake only vaguely interested, but Yang and Ruby had immediately exchanged knowing glances, lots of things slotting into place. Random, shiny objects that appeared sometime in the night, often placed in prominent spots or annoyingly hard places that made collecting the gift more trouble than it was worth? 

 

Yeah. That sounded a _lot_ like the Rose-Xiao-Long household. 

 

Ruby fiddled with her cookie, not eating it yet. She knew that was strange for her and so she also knew she had Ozpin's undivided attention when she said, "He leaves gifts for us too sometimes."

 

Across the desk she could _feel_ him going still.

 

"It's mostly stuff he finds on missions. It’s always old or broken so I guess... it must be abandoned, right? Things from homes that... you know. That the Grimm got to."

 

"...and bandits," Ozpin finally said. It had been a long, heavy moment. "He told me once that he didn't like the idea of simply forgetting them. As if he could, but I think this is his way of honoring those families. Putting their treasures back into use." Ozpin gestured to a door on his left, one that Ruby had never seen opened, but could only assume lead to his private rooms. "I have quite the collection now."

 

“More than a trunk full?”

 

“Yes…?”

 

Ruby grinned. "Same. So he must really, _really_ love you."

 

She finally took a bite of that cookie and when Ruby left Ozpin slipped through his door and returned a moment later with the chipped rose plate cradled carefully in his hands. He piled the remaining cookies onto it and handed it formally over to Ruby.

 

"Do tell your Uncle to quit being such a nuisance, if you would," he said, staring at her over the top of his glasses. Ruby only giggled.

 

"I can _try_."

 

The next morning a crow flew over Beacon and Ozpin awoke to find a damaged scythe propped beneath his bedroom door. He touched the edge of the blade with careful, reverent hands.

 

"At least this one isn't where the students can find it," he muttered, shaking his head.

 

What he texted later though was,

_I love you too._


	14. Careful Orchestrations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rare update has been spotted! I'm slow, friends. Like a well-meaning snail. But everything arrives eventually :) 
> 
> Written for an anonymous prompt for in-universe bed sharing!

_All roads lead home_ , Qrow thought as he dodged something small and fast slamming in from his left. Some part of him actually expected to see Ruby, but when he looked up it was another teen skidding and frantically cartwheeling his arms, trying to keep from face-planting in the dirt. When balanced he glanced back at Qrow with a sheepish expression, red staining his cheeks as his friends jeered. 

 

"Sorry," the kid muttered. "I didn't see you and it's... kinda hard to stop."

 

Qrow stood, brushing the grass from his pants. "New semblance?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"You need something to help counteract your velocity. I recommend attaching a gun to that sword." Qrow gestured to the sheath at the boy's hip. He just stared down at it, blinking. "Fuck if I understand why it works. Some sort of physics shit I guess, but I've got a real fast niece who swears by it. Just watch where you're aiming and don't shoot a friend, 'kay?"

 

"R-right!" The boy said, but Qrow was already meandering away, one hand raised in farewell. His friends had set upon him by then, some marveling at his speed, others wondering who the new hunter was; why he was here and what it might mean for the school. Qrow caught a familiar voice cutting in to ask about weapon upgrades and allowed himself a small smile. 

 

"Dear me. We've been in Haven less than an hour and you're already sowing chaos. How will the students survive our visit?"

 

"Hey, I attached a gun to my sword and I turned out alright."

 

"You made your scythe into a sword and attached the gun to _both_. As for that second claim? Highly debatable."

 

Qrow let his gaze slide to the right where Ozpin had fallen in beside him, ever present cane and coffee mug in hand. There was also a white bag looped around his wrist. Qrow watched, bemused, as Ozpin pulled another mug out of the bag, unwrapped the tissue paper, poured his coffee into it, and replaced his dirty mug all without missing a step. As he took a sip Qrow craned his neck to get a look at the new mug's front. It read HAVEN stamped in large, silver letters.

 

"You did _not_ abandon me for a gift shop," he said. Ozpin merely smiled.

 

"It seemed rather rude to go about flaunting my own academy's sigil. Hardly well-mannered."

 

"Says the guy who just insulted me two seconds ago. Two seconds, Oz."

 

"More like thirty now, but I wouldn't want to quibble..."

 

Qrow let the laugh tumble out that had been building in his stomach. Fuck but he'd missed this. It seemed like lately all he and Ozpin had time for were mission briefings or secret, hurried conferences; anything and everything to keep Salem at bay. He'd thought this little jaunt to Mistral was more of the same. Check in on the relic. Make sure Leo had nothing to report that couldn't be said over a scroll. It was the sort of thing that would have taken Qrow no time at all if he'd just flown here. Instead Ozpin had insisted on accompanying him, all but pushing him towards the airship.

 

"Glynda has Beacon well in hand," he'd said.  "I fact, I rather suspect that nothing at all will change while I'm gone. She does often insist that she is the one who holds the school together and I'm just along for the ride..."

 

Honestly? Qrow couldn't argue with that. And here they were.

 

"If you're finished shopping," he said, making it abundantly clear what he thought of Ozpin's purchases. Qrow could see a Haven t-shirt peeking out of the bag. As well as some buttons. "I think we'd better have a quick sit-down with Leo. Everything looks alright..." Qrow's eyes scanned the campus, seeing nothing other than the students he'd been watching for the last half hour, a few teachers moving from here to there, the fall of leaves as Autumn snuck up on them all.

 

Ozpin was already nodding. "But it's best to be sure. I agree. Looks, as we both know, can be incredibly deceiving." Ozpin briefly lifted his cane and Qrow was reminded that the man beside him was one of those very deceptions. "I'm afraid that our meeting will have to wait though. Leo was unexpectedly delayed."

 

"Delayed?" Qrow scowled. What the hell was more important than—

 

"Apparently two teams nearly obliterated each other in a sparring match earlier this morning. Nothing unusual at an academy such as this—"

 

Qrow snorted. Understatement of the century.

 

"—but there's a rather worried mother who demanded to speak with the headmaster. I'm so glad that our own students' families are more level-headed about these things." Ozpin took an innocent sip from his mug.

 

Qrow was far from impressed. "Right," he drawled. "As a family member of two of your students? I know damn well it's because you've scared those parents off. Or straight up lied to them."

 

"Me? _Lie?_ "

 

"You sure as hell don't tell the truth." Qrow waved his hands in an approximation of Ozpin's gestures. It was near enough the mark that it drew a chuckle out of the man. "Oh I _assure_ you, sir, your daughter suffered only _minor_ injuries during that skirmish..."

 

"Minor compared to what many Huntresses face." For the first time in a long time that truth didn't make him wince. A rather coy smile was tugging at Ozpin's lips instead. "Everything is comparative after all, and it's not as if our students face anything that the nurses can't fix..."

 

"Keep talking and you’ll jinx us," Qrow said and he felt something warm settle in his chest when Ozpin laughed again.

 

They continued on in companionable silence after that, working their way across Haven's campus, through the main doors, down the long, stupidly fancy hall that lead to Leo's office. Instead of knocking on those doors though Ozpin gestured slightly to their right, leading them through a smaller door that, Qrow was ashamed to admit, he'd missed the first time he'd been here.

 

Ozpin shot him a knowing look. "It's meant to blend in," he explained, searching for some mechanism along the wall. Qrow wasn't able to pinpoint when he found it, but the door opened smoothly. "The professors' quarters. Not anything that would stop a truly dedicated enemy of course, but..."

 

Qrow nodded. Every bit of security helped.

 

"Haven has a long tradition of teaching by example and what better way to teach our students trust and cooperation than to demonstrate the same among the staff? It's a firm tradition of the school that every instructor lives in the communal dorm. I've heard that there are many benefits to communal living, and yet..."

 

"Glynda would have your balls if you ever suggested she live with Peter?"

 

"Not quite how I'd put it, but yes."

 

"Humph."

 

Inside it was dark. Haven always seemed dark to him despite the bright weather outside and all the massive windows. Just something to do with all the woodwork and padded rugs. Qrow couldn't help but keep his eyes peeled as they traversed another hall like the first, examining every shadow that squirmed along the wall. There was nothing nefarious here though. Merely doors, each with a plaque informing visitors whose rooms they were. Qrow let his hand briefly catch on the 'L' of Leonardo before they came to the end.

 

"Here we are."

 

Ozpin had stopped outside the last of the identical doors, this one with a plaque reading 'Guest.' Bag draped over one wrist, cane hooked on his arm, he fished out a pair of keys and—in true Ozpin fashion—did the simplest of actions that somehow resulted in the gravest of consequences.

 

Ozpin opened the door and Qrow said,

 

" _Fuck_ me."

 

***

 

Not, in retrospect, his finest choice of words.

 

"I'm sorry, buddy, you're gonna have to run that by me again."

 

Qrow resisted the urge to slam his head down onto the counter. The bartender sounded bored out of his mind, so used to these sorts of nonsensical tales that he could encourage them (and thus more drinks) in his sleep, but Qrow had just enough whiskey in him that he'd developed a _need_ to make this man understand. So instead of slamming his head he opened his arms, trying to demonstrate the sheer calamity of this situation.

 

"There's one bed," Qrow said. Whispered it really. This was _important_. "Leo gave us the—"

 

"Now who's Leo again?" The bartender topped off his drink. Qrow growled.

 

"Lionheart. The headmaster? Haven!"

 

"Ah." He went back to restocking glasses. "Never paid much attention to the academy crowd. Not until they reach maturity, anyway."

 

"Anyway," Qrow agreed. "Leo gave us the guest room with one bed. One! And I'm with my boss. I'd suspect Leo of trying to set something up if I thought he was capable of planning anything more elaborate than goddamn toast for breakfast and...you don't have any toast, do you?" Qrow was suddenly ravenous and toast sounded _great_.

 

The bartender slid a bowl his way. "We got pretzels."

 

"That's better," and Qrow proceeded to dump a handful into his mouth. Three of them scattered to the floor. The bartender watched them go, resigned, before rapping knuckles on the counter.  

 

"Alright. Listen, buddy. Believe it or not I actually like my job. I'm good at it. Mainly because I'm good at handling your sort." The man waved a meaty palm to silence Qrow. "I am. Which means that since you don't seem the violent type after you've got four of those in you I've got two questions before I send you on your way. First one: You like this boss of yours?"

 

"Do I like...?" Qrow couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't get Ozpin's name past his lips because the part of his brain not entirely muddled by whiskey was focused on the tone of the bartender's voice. Namely the way he'd said 'like' and how disturbingly close it was to toddler Ruby's "like-like" chants when Yang fell for one of the village girls. Sweet fucking dust.

 

"I...?" Qrow started again only to clamp his mouth shut. He looked left. Right. Found his glass and took another large gulp. Ultimately it didn't matter because the bartender was shaking his head.

 

"Well that's an answer if I ever saw one."

 

"Don't you have other people to serve?" Oh sure, _now_ words came to him.

 

A quick wave of his rag emphasized how empty the place was and then they were back on track. "Question two, buddy: what the hell are you going to do about it?"

 

His vision swam. "What?"

 

"Jeez you're a mess." There could have been something fond in that. Qrow wasn't sure. He felt like remembering to breathe might be the priority here. "But your type always are. We closed half an hour ago and if you've got enough in you not to notice that, you've got enough in you to do something stupid tonight." Calloused hands were suddenly on his shoulders, turning him back towards the door. "Go to Haven. Crawl into that one bed. Let me know tomorrow night if you got a punch or a kiss for your trouble."

 

Again: what?

 

" _Go_."

 

So Qrow went on wobbly legs, feeling vaguely like he should be offended by something, but not able to pinpoint exactly what. Everything was too foggy for that now. But bed? Bed sounded _wonderful_.

 

Drunk or sober Qrow had a one-track mind when it came to his indulgences and sleep was definitely an indulgence at the moment. His shuffling feet took him back across Haven's campus, through the ornate doors, down one hall, then another, somehow managed to find that secret latch, and then he was sliding under a pair of sheets that were soft enough against his skin to be mistaken for silk.

 

Qrow slept with his mouth open and his body splayed. Not the sleep of the innocent precisely, but the whiskey mimicked it well enough.

 

Which was to say, he slept deep.

 

***

 

"Well this is a pleasant surprise."

 

The words wormed their way into Qrow's dreams before nudging him awake. They lay there, right at the edge of his mind, waiting until he could make some sense of them. It should have meant something (had he been cognizant enough to realize it) that he recognized the _voice_ long before the words had any meaning. Qrow would always know Ozpin. Always.

 

But a pleasant surprise?

 

That he couldn't name, though Qrow was willing to put forth a number of possible contenders. Haven's beds were distinctly comfortable, so that was something right there. He could smell bacon wafting in from the cafeteria downstairs. There were voices outside. Kids already enjoying their weekend. Perhaps the boy he'd run into was out there as well, trying out some late-night improvements to his weaponry. There was the fact that Qrow's mouth didn't taste nearly as horrific as he'd expected—small favors—and the warm press of a back against his chest. He wouldn't have guessed that Oz smelled of wood smoke, but it was definitely a pleasant—

 

Wait.

 

"If you're thinking of panicking, as your boss I absolutely forbid it."

 

Too late.

 

Like all expert hunters Qrow had reflexes like a cat's. Too bad he was dealing with Oz. No sooner had his eyes flown open than he felt the body next to his twist and a strong hand landed like iron on his wrist; the legs between his tightened and curled. In an instant Qrow was held fast by—fucking _shit_ —Ozpin dressed only in black shorts and a gray t-shirt. Qrow's mind numbly noted that it was another goddamn souvenir.

 

Despite the bare foot hooked behind his ankle and the twisted sheets that did nothing to provide a barrier between them, Ozpin kept his face turned towards the window, allowing Qrow some semblance of privacy. Oddly enough it worked and when he could hear something other than his own pounding heart Ozpin spoke again.

 

"I wouldn't recommend it at all," he said softly, still speaking to the window. His grip didn't loosen though. "I'd thought to take the chair for myself, but you took so long coming back that I couldn't resist the allure of a real bed. Imagine my surprise when you tumbled in not half an hour later. Really, Qrow. You know I'll never approve of your drinking, but if it leads to situations such as this..."

 

Confidently, though now loose enough that he could escape if he wished, Ozpin guided Qrow's hand down across his abdomen, pulling the rest of his body along with it. Qrow hissed a breath through his teeth and tried to summon up thoughts that weren't cursing. "We spent most of the night like this and I assure you, I quite enjoyed myself. Of course, my enjoyment in contingent upon you enjoying it as well..."

 

Qrow swallowed whatever was sticking in his throat and what came out was, "That shirt is horrendous." It wasn't. It was soft and _thin_.

 

"Hmm." For the first time Oz rolled enough to look at him. "I'm inclined to make some sort of quip about how I could take it off for you, but..."

 

"Don't know why there's a 'but' in there. Not unless it's both our butts we're talking about."

 

"Ah yes. It's because you're so much more accomplished at debased humor than I."

 

Qrow had another quip ready, saw that was exactly what Ozpin was going for, and snapped his mouth shut. Too much. Too fast. Early morning revelations were only fun if you could be sure you weren't dreaming.

 

"You're not going to punch me?" Qrow asked. Whispered it really.

 

Ozpin expression had sobered to match his own. One hand reached up as if to stroke Qrow’s hair, then thought better of it. "Certainly not. Would it..." He stopped. Qrow was greeted with the rare sight of Oz with pink-stained cheeks. "Would it help to know that I specifically asked for Leo to put us in this room? Sans bed?"

 

Help? _Immensely_.

 

So Qrow ducked down, reveling in how Oz immediately arched up and back, his lips just skimming beginning to skim Ozpin’s neck—

 

—when he pulled back from the kiss, snatching a bit of Haven's stationary instead. Qrow bit hard into his lip to keep from laughing at the frustrated puff of air that hit his cheek.

 

"Qrow. I have orchestrated a trip, a cancelled meeting, and a rather specific scenario to get us to this point. _What_ are you doing?"

 

He couldn't resist. Besides, Qrow didn't want to be a liar, did he? He took a moment to capture Ozpin's lips in a real kiss before pulling back once more.

 

"Just give me a sec. I've got a bartender to update."


	15. Egg-celent Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Ozqrow: them being dumb nuggets? Does that count, can that be a prompt :o"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who follow me on tumblr: sorry for what's going to be a sudden mass of incoming fics that you've already read. I've been answering drabble prompts and finally remembered that AO3 is also a place that should have them :D
> 
> Additionally, not all of the next couple chapters are specifically Ozqrow (I'll label), but I didn't have anywhere else to chuck them. So... yeah. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“Did you lose a bet?” Qrow tried to come up with a plausible reason for one man owning that many eggs—enough that they covered the kitchen counter, spilling over onto a nearby chair—and failed. The existence of flour, butter, sugar, and cocoa powder didn’t lessen the oddness of walking in on an eggpocalypse.

Still. He was expecting Oz to spout some strange but surprisingly logical explanation. Not glare at him over a bowl of half-beaten batter.

“…Holy shit you lost a bet.”

“I was tricked, if you must know.” Ozpin’s disdainful sniff only succeeded in sucking flour up his nose, launching him into a coughing fit so violent he ended up doubled over the counter. Qrow wisely pulled from all his spy training to _not_ laugh until he was sick.

Death by pissed off baker wasn’t exactly how he wanted to go.

“Bart?”

“Of course it was Bart.” Ozpin wiped his mouth with a tea towel before chucking it into a nearby corner. “I’m a busy man, Qrow. I have responsibilities both to this school and to our nation. So while I’m more than happy to allow the students to hold bake sales if they wish, I did not think _I_ would be the one doing all the work!”

“Mmm.”

So history repeated itself. You’d think after 2000 years Oz would have realized that he had a bit of a knack for losing bets—a characteristic that managed to rival even Qrow’s semblance. Combine that with a mischievous history professor, too much pride, and a school full of teenagers more than willing to hold their headmaster to the publicly impulsive promises he made… well. It had never worked out in his favor.

Qrow moved to stand behind Ozpin. Partly to hide his smile, mostly to start kneading at his shoulders. The tension there began melting away.

“Eclairs?” he guessed, surveying the still mind-boggling number of eggs.

“Mm, yes.”

“Oz, no kid wants to buy eclairs at a bake sale.”

“I’m not baking _just_ eclairs,” came the offended huff. “There will be brownies, cookies, a silk pie, some mini-pavlovas…”

“ _Mini_ —? Okay. I will officially never understand how your mind works.”

It was said with great reverence though. Because it was true. Qrow would never understand Oz in the same way he’d never understand how he’d gone from shoving his scythe down a beowolf’s throat in the morning to finding his immortal partner having a baking crisis in the afternoon. Life was fucking weird.

And Qrow loved it. Mainly because he loved what was currently beneath his hands.

“You know,” he said, dropping a kiss to the strip of skin between Ozpin’s collar and his hairline, eliciting a shiver. “You’ve got plenty of time to bake your fancy-pants eclairs. How about I help you relax a little first?”

Ozpin arched his back, eyes closed as he dropped his head onto Qrow’s shoulder. “Oh?”

“Yep. I know exactly what you need…”

And with his partner still deadweight in his arms Qrow reached forward, grabbed the nearest egg, and slammed it square between Ozpin’s eyes.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

A hunter’s reflexes are nothing to toy with, especially when the hunter in question has several lifetime’s worth of experience to pull from, so Qrow made sure he was already halfway across the room by the time yolk was dribbling down Ozpin’s nose. Watching him move from defensive shock to betrayed shock was oh so very _egg_ -cellent.

Hey. At least he was relaxed now. Sort of.

“I always knew you were a bit of an _egg-head_ ,” Qrow said. He bit hard into his lower lip when Ozpin reached for an egg of his own. Qrow armed himself with the flour. “What? Thank you can take me, old man?”

The egg went up into the air and down into Ozpin’s palm. Up down. Up down. He didn’t need to look to make the catch and, somehow, he remained terrifying despite the mess currently coating the right side of his face. “Indeed I do… you should know when you’re _beaten_ , Qrow.”

“Pff. Your puns need work. Not all it’s _cracked_ _up_ to be.”

“Perhaps… though I’m afraid this little guy is the only one getting _laid_ tonight.”

The shock of that unfortunate statement gave Oz just enough time to land a solid hit in the center of Qrow’s chest. He let out a squawk as some of the yolk dribbled down beneath his shirt and then a hefty dose of cocoa powder was heading for his eyes.

Needless to say, a bunch of teenaged hunters in training could hold an impressive food fight. No doubt about it.

…They had nothing on the pros though.

And if two hours later Qrow found himself back in a Vale convenience store, picking up even more goddamn eggs? Worth it.


	16. Royal Engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "OZ QROW FAM or like if ur interested in them at all I keep dumping aus in the server go have fun" - ended up being a Royalty!AU

“Not a step closer.”

James had his sword leveled at the visitor’s throat and Ozpin knew, despite the tremble in his legs, that his aim would be true if it was needed. If it came to that. The man must have seen the same gleam of determination because he didn’t sneer at the crooked wrongness of James’ right leg, or the empty sleeve that hung from his tunic. He merely stopped, hands raised in a universal gesture of peace.

The man cocked his head, then swallowed the leaf he’d been chewing and let a smirk rise to take its place. “Hey, hey. Don’t go getting pissy. You lot are the ones who invited me.”

“…We did, yes.”

Ozpin stood, moving to close the distance despite James’ hissed protest. He’d never considered his casual wear to be overly formal for his position—especially compared to some of the foreign rulers he’d met in years past—but as he descended from his throne Ozpin suddenly found his robes and crown overbearing. They were certainly a far cry from the man’s loose gray pants and… bare chest.

Ozpin swallowed. There was nothing but scars and a crossed-shaped necklace to draw attention away from what, he was not ashamed to admit, was a glorious example of a warrior in his prime. Ozpin settled for keeping careful eye-contact with the man and something about that smirk told him he knew exactly what he was doing.

Nevertheless. Only one of them was king here. Best to keep that in mind. Ozpin straightened and centered his scepter between them. “You’re the one they call Qrow?”

“Yep.”

“Mercenary for hire?”

“That’d be me.” Qrow drew another leaf from his pocket and this time Ozpin could smell the mint on it, an oddly soothing sensation that contrasted the hard planes of his body; muddied boots and windblown hair. “You always ask questions you already know the answer to?”

“How dare you—” James began, but Ozpin shot a hand up, keeping him where he was.

“At times,” he acknowledged, taking another step forward. “I usually find the _how_ just as telling as the _what_. Your manner is… not what I expected.”

Qrow shrugged, the muscles along his shoulders rippling. It allowed the hall’s torches to cast light over the thick, raised scars there and when he turned Ozpin caught sight of a tattoo: huge wings etched into the skin of his back. It seemed like Qrow was showing off for him, though not in any way Ozpin was familiar with. Those wishing to curry favor usually did so with jewels and honeyed promises. Not arriving in court dressed like a bedraggled peasant.

“Think of this as your proof,” Qrow said, pulling at the top of his pants so they dipped below his hip, revealing another, jagged scar. He laughed when Ozpin averted his eyes. “You want a bodyguard, yeah? Kinda hard to prove my worth though, so I let my body do the talking. Unless you want a demonstration. I’ll happily kill that guy for you.”

James made an indignant sound as Qrow pointed and Ozpin quickly hid a smile behind his hand. It wouldn’t do to laugh at the head of his royal guard… no matter how justified. Qrow just blinked innocently.

Ozpin coughed. “Ideally I don’t want you to kill anyone. Although…” his eyes hardened. “I must know. Would you hesitate to protect me from a woman?”

“No.” The answer was quick even as Qrow’s shoulders registered his surprise. He was, perhaps, revealing even more than he’d intended. “Threat’s a threat, far as I’m concerned. Why? You fucked and pissed off a broad?”

“ _You!_ ” James’ sword gave a tremendous clang as it rebounded off the tile floor. His strike had left a small nick. “You will address the King with respect!”

“Fine. Did you fuck and piss off a broad, _Your Majesty?_ ”

“No—” but Ozpin had already inclined his head, trying to keep Qrow out of James’ line of sight.

“In a manner of speaking. I was betrothed to the queen of a neighboring kingdom and though I found her company adequate, we have rather… different ideas about how to manage our subjects. She has not taken the annulment well and I find myself in need of more protection than my guard can currently give me.”

That broke the tension. James looked away, his jaw set. Ozpin felt a pang for his words… and yet he knew them to be true.

Qrow didn’t take the opportunity to seize ground though. For the first time the smirk slipped from his face and something of the killer Ozpin had heard so much about began to surface. His weight settled. His hands curled. “Right. Think I know the queen you’re talking about. Dangerous woman, huh?”

“Incredibly.”

“Then I’m in.” Qrow suddenly clapped his hands together in glee, sweeping into a mock bow. Just like that. Gone was the killer and here was the man. “We pledge to serve you, oh great King Ozpin, for however long you need us. Or until this kingdom of yours runs out of booze. Whichever comes first.”

“A drunk,” James muttered, but at least he’d finally put away his sword.

Ozpin smiled. “I am glad to hear it. You may have as much wine as you please and of course you will be paid handsomely for your work. I trust that you—wait.” He paused, blinking. “I’m sorry, did you say _we_?”

“OSCAR!”

What Ozpin had thought was more of Qrow’s luggage suddenly sprang to life and sprinted down the length of the hall, tripping over the plush rug and very nearly careening into a suit of armor. Ozpin gasped, but by the time he’d started forward the boy was already on his feet again, none the worse for wear. Within moments a dubious collection of freckles and dirt smudges had come to rest in a far more sincere bow.

“Your Majesty,” the boy said in the squeak of the terrified. “I’m, um, Oscar. Oscar Pine. It’s a great pleasure to serve you and I swear I won’t let you down, whatever you need just ask, it’s no trouble at all, and I—ow!” Oscar jumped back into a vertical position as Qrow pinched his leg.

“Oscar,” he said, somehow both a reprimand and an introduction. “Farm boy I picked up a few months back. He’s great. Kinda awkward. Best assistant a mercenary could want though. Never let’s me go dry,” and Qrow plucked a flask from Oscar’s belt that he tipped down the back of his throat.

James had gone eerily still. “You let a _child_ assist you in your work?”

“No!” Oscar frantically waved his hands as Qrow began to choke. Ozpin watched the spilled wine travel down the hollow of his throat and over his collarbone. Hmm.

“No, Mr. … Mr. Knight Sir. Qrow was passing through our village when my aunt died. I would have starved without him. So I do what I can to, um, not be a burden now. Really. I can cook, mend clothes, carry supplies…” Oscar trailed off, seeming to realize that none of this would be useful within the expanse of a palace.

Ozpin’s expression softened.

“Well, you certainly won’t starve here,” he said. “I think I’ll introduce you to my archivist, Glynda. There’s much a bright boy like you can do to assist her. Can you read, Oscar?”

He shook his head, looking a little numb.

“That’s quite alright. You’ll learn. Yes, I think this arrangement will suit us all just fine.”

As Oscar’s mouth slowly unhinged, Qrow leaned an arm down onto his shoulder and tipped the empty flask. A few stray drops fell to the rug, making James twitch.

“So about that wine…”

This time Ozpin couldn’t hide his smile. Oh yes. Somehow, this felt right.

“Wine? No, no.” Ozpin strode past in a cascade of fabric, scepter in hand, long hair falling over both his shoulders. He knew what he looked like when he chose to play the part of a King. Qrow wasn’t the only one who knew how to… recommend themselves.

That look he caught? Quite satisfying.

“The first thing you two will receive is a bath. Then yes. I’ll happily share a drink with you, Qrow.”

Ozpin kept walking. It was one of the first rules he’d learned at his mother’s knee: never look back. Literally or figuratively—don’t let them see your regrets. Just keep moving forward.

So Ozpin did.

Qrow and Oscar followed.


	17. Chocolate For the Child's Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Ruby makes some hot cocoa for Ozpin/Oscar when she finds them awake one night. (post V6E4 was what I had in mind)"

They say that the hunter never sleeps. The same can be said of the huntress.

Ruby had her hand on the edge of Crescent Rose before her mind registered what had woken her in the first place: the soft crunch of snow, muffled through decaying wood, and a silhouette passing by the window beside her. She’d expected that they would all sleep together in the living room when Yang found the old beds infested with bugs, something like their very first night at Beacon… It had hurt Ruby more than she could say when everyone still separated, hardly speaking as they settled in for the night. Now she had the little family room all to herself and was the only one there to notice that someone was still out in the snow.

Ruby left her weapon behind. Foolish, maybe. Probably. But something told her not to go into this conversation armed.

“Hey.”

Oscar wasn’t a hunter though, not yet, and his whole body jerked when Ruby’s voice broke the silence. She hadn’t even realized how she’d been moving: picking up on how the farmhouse door had squeaked earlier and making sure to open it slowly; walking toe-first through the snow to minimize the sound of her boots; keeping to where the shadows were long enough to hide her. Those instincts broke when Oscar raised arms protectively over his head and flinched backwards against a fencepost. Ruby kept still until his eyes opened again.

“ _Ruby_.” Even in the dark she could see how far his shoulders fell in realization; the fear rushing right out of him.

Actually, it wasn’t very dark at all. The snow had picked up after their arrival and the pristine blanket reflected the moon, providing a surprising amount of light once Ruby’s eyes adjusted. She could see now how hard Oscar was shaking and felt something hot settling in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Ruby squeaked. She held up her hands, now doubly glad she hadn’t taken Crescent Rose with her. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just saw—thought—what are you _doing_ out here?”

Blinking, Oscar surveyed the odd pile at his feet. Ruby could make out sticks of various lengths, leaves, a few bits of trash that must have been lying around for years. Once he’d looked down it seemed like Oscar didn’t know how to look back up again.

“Clearing debris,” he said, voice hollow. “You… you’ve gotta keep the fields clean for when spring comes. Clear the tree lines too. Otherwise stuff might get caught in your equipment later, you know? We’d be doing that back home now. No. Wait. _I’d_ be doing…” Oscar trailed off. He pressed a hand to the side of his head like saying anymore physically hurt him.

Ruby had realized as a kid that things were a lot easier at night. She might chaff at being the “baby” of the family during daylight hours, but had no qualms about crawling into Dad’s bed once the sun went down. All her secret talks with Yang took place between 2:00 and 4:00am. She could often admit things more easily too—whispering them to the ceiling where they stayed until she was finally ready to speak them in the morning.

Nighttime had more possibility to it. There was a whole mess of things to work through come tomorrow, but right then none of it seemed to matter when it was just her, Oscar, and the snow.

…and Ozpin.

Ruby opened her mouth to ask how long he’d been out here, noticed the size of the pile ( _like a bird’s nest_ , she thought) and closed it. Instead, Ruby gently took Oscar by the arm and tried not to hiss at how cold he was.

“Okay,” she whispered. “C’mon. Just… follow me.”

He did and the part of Ruby still churning over questions of faith and trust and responsibility loosened a little when he did. She kept a tight hold on Oscar’s wrist as they picked their way back to the farmhouse and halfway there his other hand rose up to grasp at the edge of her cloak. They slipped inside like that, silent and tethered.

Ruby didn’t actually believe that the rest of the group was sleeping soundly, but it made her all the more focused on making sure no one came out to check on them. Qrow had taken up position at the very back of the house—facing the direction they hadn’t cleared of grimm and strangers yet—and Maria had closed the door to the one guest room downstairs. Yang, Weiss, and Blake had all gone up to the second floor to carve out their own spaces. In retrospect, Ruby didn’t know where Oscar had planned to sleep. Or if he intended to sleep at all.

She snuck them into the kitchen.

“Sit,” she said, all but dragging him onto one of the rickety chairs. It wasn’t like the house had heat anymore, but the wood and stone did a decent job of keeping out the wind and seven bodies scattered throughout had helped to add a bit of warmth over the course of several hours. After a moment’s hesitation Ruby re-lit the fireplace they’d stocked, deciding that Oscar’s blue lips were more important than a potential interruption. After another pause she pulled off her cloak and draped it over his shoulders.

It was only then she realized he was still holding onto it. _Now_ he let go.

“I can’t take—”

“You should really—”

They both stopped, waiting for the other to continue and unwilling to do the same. Eventually, Ruby’s lips twitched and Oscar mirrored her.

“You’re cold,” she said only, hopping up onto the table. It was a massive wood structure that had her looking down on Oscar just a bit, giving Ruby space to swing her legs and get the blood going. The smell of the fire burning dust filled her nose and a bit of the chill seeped out of her hands. Oscar tugged her cloak closer and buried his face in the folds.

Ruby stopped swinging. “He wasn’t right you know.”

A slight tilt of his head was the only evidence of confusion.

“Uncle Qrow, I mean.”

Oh, _that_ was a sound. Ruby didn’t quite know what to call it—something like a scoff mixed in with a cold laugh—but it set her teeth on edge and gave her the sudden urge to shake Oscar until he promised to never, ever make a sound like that again. She settled for leaning down into his space. “He’s _not_ , Oscar. I love Uncle Qrow but he’s not always right. You’re your own person and I—”

“Don’t lie.” Oscar’s head whipped up so fast that he nearly bludgeoned Ruby’s nose. He didn’t seem to notice though. There were tears welling up in his eyes and a tremble in his lips that ran all the way up into his cheeks. “I’m not _me_ anymore, Ruby. Why don’t you get that? It doesn’t matter if he’s gone right now because he’ll come back and when he does we’ll merge or whatever and then I won’t be—” Oscar suddenly stopped, staring down at his hands, bawling them into fists before shoving them beneath her cloak. “I’m going to change, okay? I’ll change and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“So _what_?”

It slipped out fast, but as soon as she heard the words Ruby knew she meant them. She glared hard down at Oscar, voice rolling out in a tight whisper only because the rest of the house was still quiet. Ruby had no qualms about waving her arms though and Oscar reared back with a wide-eyed look that erased the bitter expression he’d had before.

Good.

“What? You think you’re just gonna stay this Oscar for ever and ever?” Ruby waved her arms harder when that shock turned to confusion. “I’ve changed. Of course I have! I went to Beacon and became a leader and fought the White Fang and watched my friends _die_.” Her throat caught on the last word but she didn’t slow down, scooting until her legs were pressed against Oscar’s shoulder and the two of them were smooshed together in a weird little bundle of limbs and cloth. “Everyone changes. That’s a good thing. Even if… even if the things that caused the change aren’t good themselves. Wait. That doesn’t make sense. Did it? Look. My point is that old Ruby was terrified to even talk to anyone other than Yang. She’d never have changed if given the chance, but then life _made_ her and now I’m me.” Ruby gestured at all of her, hands finally beginning to still. “I like who I am now, Oscar. I don’t like some of the stuff that made me this way, but I also wouldn’t want to go back to being that old Ruby. It’s weird. But everything’s weird right now! So yeah, of _course_ you’re going to change. You would have changed anyway. It’s just… now you get to change with him.”

Ruby wasn’t sure how Oscar would receive that last part, but if the way he drew his own hands close to his chest was any indication, maybe the thought wasn’t all bad.

“And you know what? No matter how you change, I know I’ll like that future Oscar. Okay? I promise.”

Ruby saw the movement of his throat and hastily looked away just as he pressed palms up against his eyes. For a long minute there was nothing but the fire and muffled sobs.

“Do you think he can hear us?” Ruby asked the wall. She only dared voice it after the sniffling had subsided. “Even locked up like that?”

“I… I don’t know. Why?”

“Because I think Ozpin needed to hear that too.”

Slipping from the table, Ruby gestured for Oscar to stay put and used her semblance to fly silently up the stairs and through the door she’d seen Yang choose. Her sister was asleep, a minor miracle given all they’d been through today, and Ruby was able to rummage through her luggage unnoticed.

She only stole a small piece. And if Yang asked about it, Ruby would say it had been for herself.

Another lie, but… Yang wasn’t ready to hear the small truths yet. Like how sometimes even the people she was furious with needed comfort too.

So Ruby took a piece of the chocolate Yang had bought at the station and flew back down to the kitchen. Oscar watched her, eyes red and puffy, as she located a brittle mug and the fresh water Weiss had boiled earlier that night. The fire had finally warmed them and Ruby used the now glowing wood to heat the water again, dropping the chocolate in piece by tiny piece. She hadn’t been able to find a spoon, so she used her finger to stir it all together. It hurt a little, but that was okay.

“Here,” Ruby said, shoving the makeshift hot chocolate at Oscar. “It’s probably gonna taste a little weird, but,” she shrugged.

Oscar reached for the treat with careful, reverent hands. “We don’t have a lot of supplies,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“So why?”

Ruby settled back onto the table, this time pulling the edge of her cloak over her legs like a blanket. Her right arm moved to drape itself over Oscar’s shoulder.

“Because you two look weird without a mug in your hands,” she said, squeezing him tight.

He smiled—a small one—and took the first sip.

When he did, Ruby thought she caught the slightest flicker of gold in the back of his eyes.


	18. An Unexpected Duet (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You did a thing in your Cloqwork collection about ice skating? It's winter so could you maybe do a drabble about that Oz and Qrow?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel to Chapter Five and yes, I don't know how to title things so they get the same one, with the exception of a little "2" attached lol. This drabble takes place a few weeks after the first one, with Ozpin and Qrow officially a couple now

“So on the scale of legality about where are we at right now?”

“Entirely legal.”

“…lame.”

Ozpin chuckled, pulling the spare key out of his pocket and dangling it high for Qrow’s inspection. No, he hadn’t broken into their favorite rink, but it was only because Maria was an absolute darling and had granted him personal access years ago. In all honesty though, Ozpin might have actually broken in if necessary. It had been that kind of week.

Ah, but Qrow’s hand trailed lightly along his back as he passed him and a bit of the tension drained away.

“It’s weird,” Qrow said, surveying the empty ice; the darkened cafe and the locked-down skate exchange. “This place is always stuffed full of kids. I’m used to, you know, lots of screaming. Parents throwing fits about how expensive shit is. Never thought I’d see it this quiet.” He ran his fingers along the plexiglass now and inexplicably Ozpin shivered. “It’s very…”

“Peaceful,” he finished.

“I was gonna go with creepy, but okay.”

Ozpin threw his head back and let out a startled laugh, the sound bouncing off the high ceiling and settling around their shoulders. Oh yes, he was glad he’d brought Qrow here tonight.

He hadn’t had a laugh like that in ages.

“It is _not_ creepy,” Ozpin insisted, seating himself on the nearest bench and stretching out his legs. “I come here often at night. Usually for extra practice, but sometimes to just… be. A library or the skate rink. They’re the only two places I’ve ever been able to truly relax, and only one of them has provided me with a purpose in life. People often find peace in running water or falling leaves. Why not ice?”

Qrow wandered over to stand between Ozpin’s legs, nudging them open with his knee until he fit there, snug. “You’re so weird,” he said, but it had none of the hostility that Ozpin had grown used to. From competitors. His parents. Even Glynda on occasion. “This place smells like piss and cheap disinfectant. It’s cold even by a rink’s standards. I’m pretty sure I just stepped in gum.”

Ozpin nodded. “It’s wonderful.”

“Oh my god,” and Qrow finally leaned down to kiss him.

It was such a comforting clash: the old familiarity of this rink combined with the newness of Qrow’s lips against his. The position itself was awkward as hell—Qrow forced to bend too far and Ozpin with nothing to lean against, long legs continually bumping—but that only added to his joy. The moment felt _real_.

Qrow slid calloused fingers into Ozpin’s hair and he sighed, pulling back so he could focus on the new sensation.

“Mm. I don’t normally like people touching my hair.”

Qrow’s hand jumped away.

“ _Normally_ ,” Ozpin emphasized, drawing him back. Qrow’s expression remained wary until he placed his hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to play with the strands there. The question in Qrow’s eyes was obvious though and Ozpin shrugged, gaze shifting away.

“I hadn’t intended to let it grow out,” he said. “It’s simply amazing what one loses track of when training for competitions.”

“Like food,” Qrow muttered. Ah. So he wouldn’t be letting that go anytime soon.

Ozpin inclined his head. “Yes. Like food. By the time I was focused enough to schedule an appointment Glynda had already decided that long hair worked for my brand. Something about femininity, standing out… I hardly know. I was devoted to pleasing her and immediately agreed, but good heavens the upkeep was horrendous.” Ozpin’s mouth twisted down and his shoulders tensed again. Qrow was immediately leaning closer. “Do you know long it takes a team to style long hair in a manner that will last through multiple high speed turns?”

“Nope.”

“Too _fucking_ long, Qrow.”

It was his turn to let out a laugh, though Qrow tended to keep the sound close, slapping a hand over his mouth and holding everything in until he shook. It wasn’t often that Ozpin cursed and in the recent weeks he’d learned to use his exclamations sparingly. For the simple reason that it got him reactions like this.

Ozpin shook his head. He reached out to squeeze Qrow’s hips. “I’d cut it all off if I could.”

“Really?”

“Indeed.”

“So why don’t you?”

…What?

Qrow’s expression had moved from generally amused to specifically amused—at him. It was what Ozpin was quickly beginning to recognize as the Oh God My Boyfriend Is Stupid expression.

“You’re retiring,” Qrow said, enunciating each syllable like he was speaking to a child.

“…I’m retiring.”

It honestly hadn’t occurred to him. The tiny freedoms that came after making that call to Glynda and Ozpin sat, a little stunned, as Qrow moved to the other end of the bench. He’d thrown his purse over there—and yes, it was a purse. He didn’t know what the hell else to call the small bag he carried around with him everywhere. Yang might be an animal who was perfectly content to live in one outfit and eat random food she found on the sidewalk, but Ruby was a little princess who demanded any and every kind of amenity. Qrow had started carrying a wide variety of supplies with him ever since she’d come home from the hospital.

Small first aid kit. Emergency cell. Emergency cookies. Wipes. A pad for the day it was needed. Stuff like that.

Qrow also had a small pair of scissors.

He raised them and snipped at the air, a grin growing. “Whaddya say? Feel like being impulsive?”

“Here?” Ozpin’s eyes blew wide. “ _Now?_ ”

“Anything stopping you?”

“I thought we were going to skate?”

Qrow snorted. “Please. Like I honestly thought you brought me to the empty rink at 1:00am to skate.”

He… had. Though perhaps it would benefit Ozpin to be a little less honest about exactly how inept he was at all this. Dating. …Flirting. He kept his expression carefully neutral as Qrow approached with the scissors.

They were, impossibly, in a rather perfect position. The bench put Ozpin at just the right height for Qrow to work and the plexiglass provided a slight reflection for him to see in. Any mess they made would be cleaned up before the rink opened in the early afternoon.

Ozpin swallowed hard as Qrow parted his hair and drew the ends up for inspection. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Actually yeah. Tai’s a cheapskate.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“It’s true!” Qrow lifted half his hair over one shoulder and fanned out the rest. “We’re not poor, but we’re not swimming in cash either. Especially with two girls who’ll need college funds someday.” His voice had gone quiet and focused and it occurred to Ozpin that this was the most he’d ever heard Qrow talk about money. “I’ve cut their hair since they had any worth cutting. Tai’s now too. It saves a surprising amount.” Qrow’s eyes snapped up to meet Ozpin’s in the glass. “You actually want this?”

Honestly? He wasn’t sure. His hair felt like a crucial part of his identity. Or at least, his identity as a skater…

Which was precisely why he should let it go. Ozpin wasn’t that man anymore. The fuzzy image of Qrow standing at his shoulder was proof of that.

Ozpin nodded and Qrow gave a little hop of joy.

“Fucking love cutting hair,” he whispered. “Okay. Just try to stay calm and trust me. This is gonna be great.”

Oh, he trusted him, but that didn’t make the first cut any easier. Ozpin watched nearly two feet of hair suddenly plummet to the floor and felt a little like his heart was going with it. He blinked rapidly, nails digging into his legs… but then the second cut came and suddenly his whole head felt light. He felt light _headed_. It was such a strange, foreign feeling that Ozpin instinctually lifted a hand up towards his ear. It was caught and set gently back into his lap.

“No peeking,” Qrow said. He bent and pressed a kiss against the back of Ozpin’s neck. It sent a lovely little shiver down to his toes.

Okay. No peeking. Ozpin kept his gaze firmly on the floor as Qrow muttered things about layering and washing and needing a diffuser. He didn’t really follow it, but the careful attention Qrow gave to the task was worth more than Ozpin could say. When fingers suddenly appeared beneath his chin he was surprised by them. The feel of the work had made him drowsy and in the face of Qrow’s ministrations he’d forgotten what they had been leading to.

“Well?” Qrow said, nervousness threading his voice. “What do you think?”

He must have carried the small mirror over with him, the mirror that now reflected a man Ozpin didn’t recognize. His hair hung just below his ears and without the added weight had curled unexpectedly, little flyaways falling over his eyes and lifting in the back. It made him look younger. Approachable. The man, Ozpin realized, looked _happy_.

Qrow was visible in the mirror’s reflection, stationed beside him with flushed cheeks and twitchy fingers. Ozpin knew he was supposed to be looking at the cut right now, and yet…

“Perfect,” he said and he still hadn’t drawn his eyes away from Qrow.


	19. Hidden Childhoods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "OzQrow hide and seek? Is that prompty?"

“You’re an absolute child, I hope you realize…”

There was no response and Ozpin would have been quite surprised to get one. He’d only managed that trick on Qrow once before, resulting in a look so betrayed that he’d later gone back and pulled the image from the Beacon security footage, slipping the picture into the box beneath his bed. The beauty of having a man hide from you was that you could say absolutely _anything_ and they were in no position to defend themselves.

Ozpin smiled. Some might call him cruel. He preferred to think of it as making use of the opportunity presented to him.

“Yes, quite immature. I do believe James was right. I _should_ be paying more attention to him instead.”

Hmm. Pity. If anything had the chance of generating an instinctive squawk of rage it would have been showing a preference for James—even in jest. With a theatrical sigh Ozpin continued his walk through the tower’s lower levels, a veritable labyrinth of storage for school, mission, and personal needs. His cane beat a steady rhythm as he walked, the sound echoing off the ceiling and reverberating far down into the hall. Oh yes, Qrow could hear him just fine. Ozpin had carefully designed the acoustics down here. Anyone who entered—invited or otherwise—would have to be extraordinarily quiet to escape his notice. The sound was meant to carry.

Which made it the perfect spot for a bit of challenging hide and seek.

Ozpin whistled a few notes and let his smile widen, picturing quite clearly how James, Leo, or (heaven forbid) Glynda would react if they knew he frequently played this little game with Qrow. In truth, he was a vocal advocate for using play in all manner of education, as it tended to reap far better results than stoic discipline ever could. What was a beloved story except a form of complex memorization? What better way to impart lessons than to encourage the belief that it wasn’t a lesson at all? Children could be so resistant to such things… and adults as well. There was a reason that Ruby had first discovered her semblance during a game of tag with her uncle—what she would later describe as “training” out of a sense of embarrassment and a need to be seen as _mature_. Which just helped to prove his point.

Indeed, there was a reason why Ozpin had refused to let Glynda punish RWBY and JNPR for their rather epic food fight last month. From his position in the shadows he’d seen more innovative fighting techniques than most pro huntsmen would have been able to develop if given the time and inclination. To say nothing of their natural instinct for turning everyday objects into weaponry. Watermelons as bludgeons? Ketchup used to slip an opponent? How utterly _wonderful_.

Ozpin knew one thing for certain: those two teams would never freeze if disarmed in a fight.

“Qrow…” he called softly, trailing his free hand over one of the many doors beside him—some hidden, others obviously locked to act as a ruse. None of them had the remnants of aura that he would expect to find if Qrow had passed through them. “You realize we’re both attending this meeting soon, yes? I’m afraid I really can’t indulge you any further.”

Still nothing, even though just a few months ago Qrow would have believed the stern tone and come stumbling out, ready to head elsewhere on Ozpin’s orders. It was a game that challenged gullibility as much as technique and yes, he’d gotten quite good at it over the years. Rather talented really, once Ozpin had given him the ability to transform and thus hide in small places; Qrow’s flight allowing him to bypass footfalls and the clumsiness that could hit even the most experienced hunter. They’d been doing this on and off since Yang was born, giving Qrow a low-stakes place to try out both his newfound powers and the sort of rogue techniques that being a spy often called on.

Ozpin? He just liked getting out of the office.

Because no, this kind of play no longer presented a challenge for him. Then again, that’s not why he did it. Ozpin was older, better trained, and still had a few tricks up his sleeve that even Qrow didn’t know about. There were ways of picking up on the body’s natural processes, things that belonged to both beast and man alike: a rapid heartbeat, for example. Or perhaps shallow breathing. Ozpin was used to feeling such things when they arose out of fear; prey trying to hide from him.

This was a little different. Here, the same kind of nerves were born of excitement. Qrow _wanted_ to be found.

Which was why Ozpin smiled and deliberately turned in the wrong direction, away from where he knew his partner was tucked into the shadows of an alcove

They could play for a while longer.


	20. Cat Nap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "CATPIN!!! Well Ozpin behaving like a happy cat?"

“What do we do?”

“…do we have to do anything?”

Everyone looked to Ruby and she immediately threw up her hands, unsure why they thought she was the one to solve this strange situation. “Jaune’s here too,” she hissed and he began frantically shaking his head, moving a careful step behind Pyrrha. “Why’s everyone looking at _me_?”

“Because you’ve spent the most time with him, sis.” Yang slung an arm over Ruby’s shoulder and raised her hand like an imaginary microphone. “Tell us, oh great huntress Ruby Rose: what insight do you have into this rare and hilariously strange creature?”

“Really,” Weiss huffed, but she turned with the rest of the group to regard the odd sight across Beacon’s lawn.

Professor Ozpin was taking a nap.

At least, he _looked_ like he was taking a nap. The tingling feeling on Ruby’s arms and the way Nora kept low like she was ready to spring informed her that their headmaster wasn’t really asleep. He’d never let his guard down like that. Not in the middle of the school where anyone could see him and, more importantly, anyone might attack. This was all some kind of strange, elaborate ruse.

…Right?

“He’s going to ruin his suit,” Ren observed and Jaune shot him an incredulous look.

“That’s what you’re gonna focus on here? Ren. Buddy. Priorities.”

Weiss’ cheeks puffed up like an angry bird. “It’s very undignified,” she said, hands rising up to her hips. “Really, what is he? A lowly vagabond— _ow!_ ”

“Nothing wrong with sleeping on the ground,” Nora said, removing her boot from Weiss’ foot. Her smile was surprisingly sharp.

“But he’s the _headmaster_.”

“Yeah, which means he can do whatever he wants. He owns a school!”

“Nora Valkyrie that is not what that means.”

Ruby climbed up onto the short wall and peered carefully around the pillar they’d all been hiding behind. She had seen their headmaster relaxed plenty of times before, probably more than the average student, but that had all been in… simple ways. Like how his shoulders would loosen if it was just the two of them talking about her classes over lunch, or the one time he’d forgone his jacket and rolled his sleeves up in the new semester heat. They were moments that struck Ruby because, well, they shouldn’t. It was like she forgot sometimes that Ozpin was just a normal guy.

…Okay. Maybe not _normal_. But he didn’t live in his suit and devote the entirety of his life to school proceedings, no matter what Ruby had once thought about her Signal professors. (Yang still wasn’t letting her live that down.) Watching him walk barefoot across campus because a third year’s water semblance got out of hand shouldn’t make everyone’s brain glitch like bad Atlas tech and Ruby had been trying hard lately to remember that. She thought she’d been doing a good job.

But then there was this. And yeah. Not computing.

Gone was their dignified headmaster, the often reserved figure of infamy, and in his place was a languid man who looked a little like he’d been drugged. Oh no. _Maybe he’d been drugged_. Ruby honestly couldn’t think of another reason why Ozpin would have stretched out on the grass like this, basking in the sun like he’d found his own, private paradise. The fact that it very much _wasn’t_ private was what confused her. They’d all stationed themselves in the courtyard a stone’s throw away, but other students had classes and were passing by with frequency, all of them stumbling over their own feet when they caught sight of him. Ruby saw various upperclassmen running through the same exact thought process of What? When? _Why?_

“It’s not going to hurt his suit because his suit is green. And the grass is green too. So it _balances out_.” Nora had her palms together and was punctuating each word with a jab at Weiss—who in turn looked like she was ready to stuff Myrtenaster straight down Nora’s throat.

“Do you have any concept of the words that come out of your mouth? No—Pyrrha—let me go! She has to understand this!”

The others were quite adept at ignoring such outbursts. They crowded together until they were just a single, consolidated mess of curiosity. Blake had her eyes narrowed. The tips of her bow pressed down towards her hair. “He kinda looks like a…”

“Cat.” Yang finished.

Ruby squealed at the comparison because yes. That was it _exactly._ He looked like a lazy, well-loved cat. Content to sleep the rest of his life away in a sunbeam. Even as they said it they watched Ozpin suddenly stretch, toes pointed and arms reaching far above his head. He looked like the calico Ruby sometimes saw wandering the market streets of Vale. He’d hook his claws into her legs and stretch too, just like that, until she scratched behind his ears or fed him a bit of her lunch. The numerous holes and tears in her tights were worth it.

Finished, Ozpin flipped and turned on his side, almost in a fetal position. In the large patch of sun his eyes were closed in apparent bliss and the student across the field froze when he caught sight of him—then turned in the opposite direction.

Honestly? Ruby understood.

Weiss opened her mouth like she was going to call Yang out on the comparison… and then reconsidered. Blake looked torn between being angry and intrigued. Pyrrha and Ren were still trying to keep Nora contained, though quickly losing the battle. That only left Jaune and Ruby to witness what Yang had just pulled from her pocket.

“Do not,” Ruby hissed.

“Can’t stop me.”

“Yang no.”

“Yang _yes_.”

“Why are you still carrying that—” Blake started, her tone bordering on furious, but then her attention was caught by the tiny red light that appeared against the stone, emanating from Yang’s laser pointer. Nora started snickering as Yang dragged the light to the left… then the right. Pyrrha kindly took hold of the back of Blake’s shirt so that she couldn’t run after it when Yang suddenly shot the light across the grass.

“I don’t even think he’s awake,” Ren said. “He’s certainly not going to…never mind.”

Because Ozpin’s hand _had_ shot out. Even with his eyes closed, looking perfectly relaxed, he’d reacted to the light with near blinding speed, and Yang only just managed to tear it off a little farther to the side. Ozpin’s fingers passed through it. When they did Ruby saw his body somehow grow even more still, a kind of… frustration visibly rising out of his bones. Carefully, his fingers inched towards the light again.

Yang pulled it back.

Oh dear.

Third time; so close. Fourth time—

“ _Ms. Xiao-Long_.”

With a shriek Weiss went tumbling into Yang, creating a cascade of bodies that was only stopped by the pillar they still hid behind. Ruby had felt the hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise as Yang had moved the light towards Ozpin’s face. She turned now, more slowly than the others, somehow not at all surprised to see him standing before them.

Nora was right: a green suit did hide grass stains. Ruby would have never guessed that their headmaster had just been taking a cat nap in the middle of his campus, not based on the small, put-together smile he wore.

Ozpin made a tisking sound and plucked the pen out of Yang’s numb fingers. He flicked the light on and off a few times, seeming to enjoy it. “It’s rude to tease people. You should know better.”

“What.” Yang stared. “ _How?_ ”

“You’re fast,” Nora whispered. She half climbed onto Ren’s shoulders to get a better look at him. Ozpin calmly bore the scrutiny, though Pyrrha used her other hand to latch onto Nora’s skirt; a mother now keeping watch over two kids.

Weiss had her hand in the air. “Uh, sir? I’m kind of more interested in the _why?_ ” Jaune nodded dumbly in agreement.

Ozpin turned his benign smile Ruby’s way. “Ms. Rose?”

Yeah. She understood now. It hadn’t taken her that long to see it. She’d been right all those months ago: Ozpin and Uncle Qrow were way too similar.

“Because you can,” she grumbled, scuffing boots against stone. “And no one who didn’t see it for themselves is going to believe us.”

Ozpin didn’t answer. Though then again, he didn’t have to. With a very small bow he turned on his heel and started back towards Beacon tower. Ruby thought she caught the strains of a jaunty whistle as he went.

There was a beat of silence before Yang’s eyes blazed red.

“That bastard kept my pen!”


	21. A Touch of Bird Flu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "How about a cloqwork one where some students find Qrow in his crow form and Oz has to rescue him from the students who want to take him to a vet or the equivalent of."

“Ah, Tai. You’re early. Please sit. If you’d like I can have Poppy send up some…” Ozpin paused, taking note of the otherwise empty elevator. “Where’s Qrow?”

Tai immediately adopted a wounded expression, both hands rising to press against his heart. “Really? No ‘Good to see you, Tai’ or ‘How have you been, Tai?’ Three months with barely a word and you immediately forget about me for that overgrown child.” He gave a disgusted sniff. “I see how it is.”

Ozpin tried to tame his smile and largely failed. “Would you believe me if I said it was only because I fear what will become of Qrow if he’s left unsupervised?”

“…maybe.”

“I did miss you. Surely you know that.”

Tai’s banter faded in the face of Ozpin’s real concern. He shook his head, crossing the office to pull him into a rough hug. Ozpin froze for just a moment before he curved forward, letting Tai take some of his weight. A sigh escaped before he could call it back. Tai had always been a good hugger.

“Of course I know,” he said, rubbing a small circle into Ozpin’s back. “For someone who’s supposedly a genius you can be really stupid, man. Case in point: you married my brother-in-law.”

Ozpin made a choking sound that might have passed for a laugh. He pulled back. “I’m not sure many would consider that late night escapade to be marriage, precisely.”

“It is legal?”

“…technically.”

“Than you’ve got no wiggle room in my judgement.”

Fair enough. With a shake of his head Ozpin lead Tai firmly into the chair across from his desk, determined to play the part of host even if it was no longer needed between them. It also gave Ozpin time to pull back the tatters of dignity that clung to him and try to twist them into something protective. There’d been… a lot going on lately and seeing someone other than a peer or a student was more of a balm than Ozpin could say. Glynda herself had too much formality to dare break through his and James had needed someone to lash out at recently. Ozpin didn’t begrudge him that—the man had more on his plate than most—but he couldn’t pretend that it didn’t get tiring. Seeing someone sit in that chair for no other reason than because they wanted to visit… that was appreciated. Immensely so.

The only thing that would have made it better was if the man Tai was supposed to be visiting with had actually showed up. Ozpin’s eyes strayed back to the elevator, Qrow still nowhere to be found.

“He’s fine,” Tai said, knocking the sand pendulum on Ozpin’s desk so it made a deep ravine. He picked up a bit of the sand and rubbed it between his fingers. “We separated in Vale because I wanted to do some shopping for the girls. I thought he was coming straight here…” For just a moment a flash of concern crossed Tai’s features, then he shook his head. “But he probably got distracted. Maybe by the bar? Not that the bar is more important than you!”

Ozpin’s lip twitched. “Do you think me so sensitive that I’d take offense to my husband taking some time to himself?”

“You’re moping.”

“I am not!”

“I know what moping looks like on you, Oz. It’s distraction and churning your cocoa instead of drinking it.”

Ozpin froze, no longer turning his mug around and around in his hands. He scowled and set it aside completely.

“You’re an infuriating man.”

“And you love me anyway.” With a wink Tai bent to heft up the bag at his feet, depositing a number of clothes, toys, and various knick-knacks onto the desk. Ozpin watched the pile grow with tempered amusement. He finally tore his eyes from the elevator.

“I assume this is the shopping?”

“Ruby is five next month. _Five_.” Tai took up a little red dress and shook it forcefully in Ozpin’s face. “She’s growing like a weed now. Same with Yang and frankly I don’t know how I’m going to keep them both clothed.”

Ozpin picked up an article, eyebrows raised. “It might help if you invested in something other than pint-sized biker jackets.”

“And lose the look on my firecracker’s face when she opens this? Never. So… you gonna come to the party? It’s just a little get together. Nothing fancy.”

Tai already knew the answer though. He didn’t need to look up at Ozpin’s apologetic face to confirm it. He’d met Yang as an infant, holding her close and beaming so wide you’d think he’d been the father there… and yet he’d never once done the same for Ruby. Oh, Ozpin had been legitimately busy right after her birth, but by the time he was back in Vale, Summer had—

Tai stopped that train of thought, swallowing. And that right there was why he understood; why he was never mad at Ozpin’s various travels and meetings and obligations that inevitably came up. Because Summer had been special to Ozpin, all of Team STRQ had, and he couldn’t blame the guy if he didn’t want to look at the spitting image of his former student in infant form. Hell, some days even Tai found it hard and yes, he felt sufficiently guilty about it, thanks.

He wished Ozpin would try someday though. For him. Qrow. Ruby. Himself. They might look alike, but Ruby was her own, spitfire person. Five minutes would tell anyone that—and she was someone worth knowing.

(Though admittedly, he _was_ a little biased.)

With a light chuckle he began replacing his gifts in the bag. Already Yang was mimicking her dad and uncle, attacking imaginary grimm with backyard sticks… and Ruby was mimicking Yang. Tai could easily see his girls attending Beacon someday and on the heels of that was the thought that this repressive, incredibly stubborn man might actually wait until then to see her.

Well. That’d be one hell of a meeting.

“I’ll send her a gift,” Ozipin said softly. He hesitated. “Anonymously. There are these wonderful plushies sold in town now. Handmade, you know. They’re quite good. Perfect for a little girl about her age. Yes. Perhaps I’ll get two.”

This was how Ozpin rambled: short, clipped sentences. Like his brain was firing too fast and he had to spit things out exactly as they came. Tai stood and moved to place a hand on his shoulder, hoping that his expression conveyed what his words probably couldn’t.

“She’ll love it,” he said. “Provided you understand that she and Yang will probably rip the plushie’s head off during a mock grimm battle. No toy is safe in our house. Nothing personal.”

Ah, _there_ was the smile. “Hence why I’ll buy multiples.”

“Just more cannon fodder,” Tai countered, feeling the shoulder shake. “You know, one time I picked up Yang a—”

There was a beat of silence. “Tai?”

“Something’s going on.”

Which at a school for huntsmen could mean anything from generic teenage shenanigans to something that might end in a number of his students’ deaths. Ozpin was out of his chair in an instant, calmly moving Tai aside to get a look out the window.

Yes, there was a large - and now growing - group of students sequestered around something out front. Ozpin watched, concerned, as they all leaned in close at whatever had fascinated them. Something that was apparently on the ground…

… and then that something shot into the sky. It wavered, turned over once, twice, and then plummeted back to the earth. The crowd followed it eagerly and the circle reformed.

Tai had moved to rest his head against the glass in a gesture of defeat. “ _Please_ tell me that’s just some random crow out there.”

Ozpin was already halfway to the elevator.

“'Course not.” Tai snatched up his shopping and followed.

Never let it be said that a man with multiple lifetimes under his belt and access to the best Atlesian tech didn’t know how to plan properly. Most of the time the Beacon elevator was nice and slow—providing Ozpin with time to prepare for guests and guests time to prepare for him. Press the hidden button on the opposite wall though and you _plummeted_. They were downstairs and out the door in a matter of seconds.

Tai was still trying to find his stomach when Ozpin hailed his students.

“What’s this now? Something caught your eye?” Only old friends would have picked up on the hitch in his words; how he traversed the grass just a little more quickly than usual and without his customary cane. A boy with bright blue hair and twisting horns stepped back to let their headmaster through.

“We found it like this,” he said, pointing at the crow splayed out on the ground. “We didn’t hurt it or anything, sir, but I think it needs a vet.”

A girl nodded sagely. She was wringing both hands anxiously, staring imploringly up at Ozpin. “He’s not acting right. I’ve kept birds, sir—my family has aviaries—and I’ve _never_ seen a crow act like this before.”

As if in response, said Qrow twisted around and finally caught sight of Ozpin and Tai. The effect was immediate: flapping his wings in a disorganized manner, a croaking (and yet somehow happy) caw making them all wince. Qrow flopped around more like a fish than a bird and a vein Ozpin’s forehead jumped.

“ _How much did you have to drink?_ ” Tai hissed. Qrow tried to stand and only succeeded in falling onto his back, little feet kicking in the air. Ozpin briefly shut his eyes as the boy who’d first spoken bent a little closer.

“Huh,” he said, taking a large whiff. “He does smell like alcohol.”

“Okay.”

Time to clean up this mess before the kiddies discovered exactly how different this particular crow was. Or worse, Qrow himself got it into his head that now would be a perfect time to transform. Tai none too subtly elbowed Oz in the ribs and another student—hardly looking older than his girls, sweet dust—stared with open awe.

Ozpin nodded, expression tight. “I’ll take care of this.” He tried to muster up a smile for the students. “This is far from the first time an animal has wandered onto campus. I’ll make sure this… crow is well cared for.”

“I’m sure you will.” It slipped out before Tai could stop it and oh, scary look from Oz.

He bent to retrieve their wayward companion—Qrow noticing his sudden closeness and trying to tumble towards him, that godawful squawk filling their ears—when the girl intercepted. Ozpin stared at the hand on his arm, bemused, but the girl was too busy shaking her head to notice.

“You can’t touch him barehanded, sir! He might be carrying a disease, or he could bite you…”

“I’m sure he won’t bite, Ms. Davis.”

“You can’t know that!”

It was probably the only time these youngsters had ever spoken back to their esteemed headmaster and Tai gave the girl props for sticking to her guns, no matter how unwarranted.

Although, he was a lot less amused when Ozpin reached in and stole Ruby’s new dress, using it to scoop Qrow up with.

“Hey!”

“Perhaps he’ll pee on it,” Ozpin murmured, lips twitching, and Qrow’s head perked up like basic bodily functions sounded _wonderful_ right now. Tai had a finger in his face a millisecond later.

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed. “I will pluck you and use you as pillow stuffing.”

“Excuse me, but… do you always threaten birds? Who are you exactly?” The boy was staring unabashedly at Tai while the rest of the crowd openly cooed at Ozpin cuddling said bird to his chest. More than one scroll camera flashed.

Tai turned to answer and when he did Ozpin was already halfway across the grass, muttering something indistinct and _besotted_ at the drunk-as-hell bird. Tai resisted a sigh. Lagging behind again, huh?

“Someone who has very poor taste in friends,” he said. Tai smacked a hand down on the boy’s shoulder. “Don’t be me, kid.”

“O…kay?”

“Good. Now, all of you go train or eat or whatever the hell it is Beacon kids do these days. Go fling yourselves off cliffs. That was a fun. Hey, did you ever hear about the time—?”

The kids scattered. Leave it to a reminiscing old man to do that job. With a shake of his head Tai turned back towards the tower, but Ozpin was now just a smudge in the distance, his arms a protective circle in front of him. Hmm. Maybe he really would give them some time alone.

“Second best. As always,” Tai muttered, but it was said with an unquantifiable fondness. He shot off a text to Oz letting him know he’d be back again tomorrow. He didn’t expect him to read it for some time.

_Do me a favor and grab a pic of Qrow in Ruby’s dress. We can add it to the skirt collection - Tai_


	22. Just Hug It Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "For the Ozqrow prompts can them hugging be a thing? After this episode I feel like those boys need a damn hug. Or maybe couples therapy and communication..."

_You did well out there._

Oscar shut his eyes, taking a moment to just let the words wash over him. With the grimm dead and behind them he could now feel a fierce ache settling into his limbs; the pounding of a bruise where his aura had broken while trying to scramble to safety. He was so thirsty he could barely swallow and his hands were numb with cold—except they blossomed with pain as soon as he packed the cane back up and slipped it onto his belt. Oscar had a headache. He had adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He had the vague sense that he knew all these feelings intimately, even though they were rather strange to a former farmhand.

He had pride that he’d _done_ that.

 _As you should._ Ozpin’s voice floated easily on the top of his mind today, crisp and clear. _Your speed has increased immensely. As has the control over your aura._

“And I’m not attacking dust-infused murderers head on…”

The hum Oscar felt was simultaneously supportive and vaguely amused. Getting your ass kicked so hard that all you could do was lie in bed for three days gave a guy plenty of time to chat with the voice in his head, and those chats had revolved primarily around the topic of How to Judge When a Fight Will Get You Killed. It had taken Oscar about 48 hours and plenty of sniping… but he could admit now that he’d been a little hasty in trying to take on Hazel by himself.

Everything was just so complicated.

_On that, at least, we can agree. But take heart, Oscar. You stood your ground today and you won._

“ _We_ won.”

And yes, a vague impression of Ozpin was included in the group that Oscar instinctually thought of. Having Jaune boost Ren’s aura had been a fantastic idea, allowing the grimm farther back to drop off completely, no longer drawn by the relic _and_ a mass of terrified people. Relying on Weiss’ ice was another—they didn’t need to kill these grimm, just keep them from catching up. She’d captured wings and tails against the mountainside, Ruby shouting something about good times as she cut through the rest. Oscar hadn’t really followed it.

 _Ms. Schnee kept a Nevermore contained during initiation, giving the rest of her future team time to dispatch it._ Ozpin’s voice reverberated with pride. _A remarkable feat for an incoming student, considering the timing that move required. Ms. Schnne has always had a particular talent for precision._

“Weiss.”

_…I’m sorry?_

“You’re living in my head and I’m living with them. You should probably drop the formalities. I mean,” Oscar shrugged. “It’s not like you’re their headmaster anymore.”

Oh. He hadn’t meant that to sound so mean. He felt the brief flash of _pain_ and _regret_ and _want_ that flowed through them… and then Ozpin reigned it all back in. Oscar was left with a hand pressing against his head and a voice trying desperately to sound chipper.

_Perhaps you’re right._

“Hey, kid! Don’t go fainting on me.”

Qrow wound his way through the train’s passengers, many of them blocking the flow as they stopped to stare at Oscar. They’d all felt the first hit from the grimm of course, heard the defense mechanisms winding up, but they probably hadn’t expected one of their saviors to be a short-statured boy still dressed for the farm. Oscar sheepishly kicked the rest of the snow off his boots as Qrow finally made it to his side.

He had a martini in hand. With an orange slice.

 _We_ just _got in_ , Oscar thought, barely managing to keep from saying it aloud. In the back of his mind a familiar warning built and Oscar pinched their shared arm because yeah, yeah, they’d been over this. He’d grown up in a family where everyone worked dawn to dusk and where potential mishap—a flooded field, a cattle’s breach birth, even a grimm attack—meant that everyone had to be clearheaded. Always. His aunt had never approved of drinking and frankly neither did Oscar… no matter how much Ozpin was willing to give Qrow a free pass.

 _We retain our separate opinions on the matter._ Ozpin’s voice was once more tinged with a thread of amusement and…okay. Yeah. That was oddly reassuring.

Oscar’s shoulders slumped. “I’m just tired,” he said.

“You and me both. Like this month needed to get any crazier, huh?” Qrow took a long sip of his drink, but his eyes never left Oscar. They traveled from his soaked pants up into windblown hair. Then they narrowed. “You’re gonna freeze to death like that long before we hit Atlas. Go change. Then the squirts are all gathering in Ruby’s room to play video games. Wanna help me kick their ass?”

It sounded fun… though only in a theoretical way. Play video games with a bunch of kids his own age? Yeah. That’d be great. Oscar had often thought about that on the farm, what it would be like to go to school and make friends and just have someone other than his aunt around—

( _I’m here_.)

—but Oscar also knew that they’d already tried this. Everyone was nice while training, but then they’d all go off in their own groups when it was time to relax. They weren’t ignoring him exactly. They just didn’t seem to think he fit. And Oscar got it. He hadn’t gone to Beacon, or experienced the things that bound them all together. He wasn’t a member of a _team_. And it probably didn’t help that every time he walked into a room people got awkward with the automatic adult who joined them.

_…I’m sorry._

“Alright, alright, you’ve convinced me.”

Oscar blinked. “What?”

“No, don’t worry, this dusty old crow doesn’t need to hear anymore. C’mon then.”

Qrow had set his drink on the small window-ledge. He was blocking the hallway now, standing with his feet planted and his arms slightly raised at his sides. The pose seemed at once exaggerated and familiar to him—though this time Oscar couldn’t tell if that was a familiarity on his end or Ozpin’s. A vague, embarrassed, grumbling sort of feeling suggested the latter.

“Jeez you’re bad at this,” Qrow said when he’d apparently stood still a moment too long. The next thing Oscar knew he was being pulled roughly against Qrow’s chest, the smell of alcohol and sweat overwhelming. He instinctually pushed back and Qrow’s arms tightened a fraction. Oscar paused.

He did smell like alcohol… but smoke too. Not cigarette smoke, but something woodsier; like Qrow had recently sat near a fire. With the initial shock gone Oscar could admit that Qrow’s shirt was a whole lot softer than it looked and his arms were a rather comforting weight around his back and shoulders. His aunt never hugged like this. She was light and quick, pulling Oscar quickly to her side before pushing him back out again. Qrow was solid—he was warm—and Oscar found himself instinctually relaxing against what felt like an immovable pillar; the one sturdy object amongst all this craziness. His hands inched up around Qrow’s waist and buried in the fabric he found there.

“There you go,” Qrow chuckled, moving one arm up to ruffle Oscar’s hair. Qrow felt him tense and immediately returned the limb to its former position, a clear statement of: I’m not pulling away. “I’ve got two nieces, kid. I know when a squirt needs a hug. Granted, Ruby usually just hangs off my arm and Yang prefers piggybacks. But it all amounts to the same. Besides, I used to do this for—”

Qrow paused, sighing.

_Me._

The merge was a slow and arduous process, the kind of thing you only realized was happening when you looked back and bothered to compare where you were with where you’d been. Lately Oscar had found himself mimicking the way Ozpin sat with their cane and Ozpin sometimes spoke about the farm like he’d been the one to grow up there. Things were messy now, unclear boundaries with equally unclear origins. Were they really becoming one, or were they just so used to one another that they’d picked up on certain habits?

Oscar wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

But the merge was granting them new abilities as well, things beyond just access to Ozpin’s muscle memory. They’d found now that they could control their shared body without a full, formal switch—which was what happened now, Oscar’s fingers uncurling to instead press flat palms against Qrow’s back. The pressure had the same desperate tinge to it though.

Oscar was the one who buried their face in Qrow’s shirt. Ozpin was the one who held on.

“That’s not me,” Oscar whispered, wanting him to understand, not entirely sure he did either. Qrow just gathered him up further.

“I know, kid. I know.”


	23. Uncle Oz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I beg, “stupid everyone is ok and happy au”, to cleanse my soul, *please*"

“How were we supposed to know that our Uncle Oz was also Professor Ozpin!”

“ _It’s in the name._ ”

Ruby threw up her hands because obviously this Weiss girl wasn’t going to get it. This wasn’t their fault. No way, no way. They’d grown up knowing Uncle Qrow’s husband, dutifully labeled Uncle Oz, as a lovable but usually absent figure who’d appear randomly in their lives for brief but exciting visits. He was busy, they knew that, but he’d show up for every birthday and academic milestone, bearing enough gifts that Dad would rant for days about how he was spoiling them rotten. (As if Ruby hadn’t learned by the age of three how to wheedle every sweet and firearm she wanted out of him.) There’s no way they could have known their quiet, enigmatic uncle was also the head of the most prestigious huntsman school in the world.

Not that Weiss seemed convinced of this.

“It’s in the name!” she said again, punctuating each word with a desperate wave of her arms. Ruby took a careful step back into the weapons lockers. “Ozpin! Oz! Didn’t you ever ask him what he did for a living? Or browse through Beacon’s website and notice that his face is plastered all over the home page?”

Ruby thought about how boring those things sounded and scowled. Who browsed school websites in their free time?

Girls who tried to hand out brochures after exploding you, apparently.

“I can see how one might make a mistake like that,” Pyrrha said, coming to stand between the two of them. “I think.”

Yang sidled up to throw an arm over Ruby’s shoulder. She gave the grump a squeeze. “We didn’t find out until, like, a week ago. Ruby here got picked up by the headmistress for starting a fight—”

“I didn’t start it!”

“—and Uncle Oz showed up to save her. Except not really. That’s what Ruby thought until Uncle Oz was all, ‘ _Surprise!_ ’” Yang gave exaggerated Jazz hands that no one bought as an accurate re-enactment. “ _Remember how you said you wanted to start Beacon with your sister? I can swing that!_ ”

Pyrrha blinked. “I… see. Well, that was very nice of him.”

“Nice? It’s irresponsible!” Weiss stamped her foot and pointed accusingly at Ruby. “He invited this child into our class because he’s got a soft spot? I thought this man was supposed to be one of history’s greatest huntsmen.”

“You’re just jealous that I’m a better fighter than you and I’m younger.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“You’re excused.”

Being mean to her was one thing, but Ruby wasn’t going to let Weiss insult Uncle Oz too. She crossed her arms and held her ground, hoping that Yang looked cool and intimidating behind her.

Based on the snickering, probably not.

“I think maybe we should be heading outside now,” Pyrrha said, giving a terribly fake laugh and positioning herself even more firmly between the two girls. “I heard talk of teams earlier. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Only if I don’t end up on a team with her,” Weiss said, making sure to flip her hair as she stalked off. Ruby stuck out her tongue and didn’t reign it back in until Weiss was gone.

Meanwhile, Nora watched the exchange obsessively while Ren gathered his weapons. She started bouncing in place and as she did, a maniacal grin developed.

“Who needs to bribe the headmaster when you can _kidnap his nieces instead!_ ”

“Nora, no.”

***

“Yes, Ruby?”

A disgruntled cough sounded beside him. Ozpin hid his smile behind a sip of cocoa. “Terribly sorry. I mean yes, Ms. Rose?”

Ruby moved her hand from the air to her skirt, twisting the fabric there. “You’re not really gonna make us choose teams, are you, Uncle Oz?”

“It’s _Headmaster_ ,” Weiss hissed down the line. Everyone stood still on the cliff-face, suddenly more interested in the family drama than whatever their initiation held for them. Nora hung off Ren’s arm while her eyes jumped eagerly between the two sisters.

“Can’t I just pair up with Yang?” Ruby whined.

“Teams are composed of four students each,” Glynda said, looking between her boss and the new students skeptically. She could feel a migraine coming on. “So while there is a chance that you will end up with your sister, Ms. Rose, it all depends on who you first encounter in the forrest and what relic you choose at the end of the path.”

“And what I decide after the fact,” Ozpin said, dropping her a wink. Glynda whirled on him with a look of fury.

Weiss’ mouth unhinged.

“In all seriousness though,” he said, not looking serious at all. “This forest is filled with all manner of grimm. Do be sure to cut down anything in your path. Do not hesitate, or you will perish. Girls, that goes double for you. I am not in the mood to face your Uncle if the two of you go and get yourselves eaten this fine afternoon.”

“Ayyy, it’s all good.” Yang finger-gunned him and slipped on her shades. “Can’t have you sleeping on the couch again huh, old man?”

“Indeed.”

Glynda had gone two shades paler. Across from her Jaune hesitantly raised his hand.

“Um, sir? I have uh… a question.”

Ozpin ignored him, miming instead for Ruby to tightened the laces of her boots. With a small gasp she dropped to fix the dangling bow as the first student was launched off the cliff. Jaune’s eyes blew wide.

“Did you give us parachutes or something?”

Still nothing. Ozpin stared hard at Ruby until she double knotted everything. The child had enough trouble with coordination without literally tripping over her own feet.

“Sir?”

Glynda’s elbow found Ozpin’s ribs. “You can’t answer Ruby’s question and not his!” she hissed.

“Oh? Did you mean _Ms. Rose’s_ question?” Ozpin smiled serenely as Glynda spluttered. “No, Mr. Arc. You must devise your own landing strategy. Yang—” he tore his eyes from Jaune, now miming that she tie up her hair.

Yang laughed outright and shook out her mane. “No way, dude.”

Cardin was flung into the forrest, shaking his head at whatever stupidity he’d signed up for here. Nora followed him with eyes still trained on the group; Ren with a curious look back. Weiss was beet red with determined fury as she disappeared over the horizon. Ozpin had slipped a hair-tie from his wrist and was forcibly shaking it in Yang’s face when the mechanism threw her too. He bit back a sigh. “Honestly. That girl.”

“Bye, Uncle Oz!” Ruby cheered, following her sister. She waved from the air and Ozpin indulgently waved back.

“Sir? Um, I still don’t understand. What exactly is a landing strate—!” Jaune cut off with a scream, tumbling head over feet into the forest.

Ozpin watched him go, sipping calmly at his mug. A moment later he had the video feed up and had enlarged the cameras following Yang and Ruby.

Glynda stared, dead-eyed and resigned. “You’re really going to show horrendous favoritism, aren’t you?”

“…I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

“ _How are they doing?_ ”

A shadow had crossed overhead, turning from corvid to man in the space of a heartbeat. Qrow landed with a stagger next to Ozpin and half shoved him aside to get a look at the feed. He was even more of a mess than usual, a bruise starting to spread on his neck and cheek.

Ozpin touched the wounds briefly. “What in the name of dust happened to you?” Qrow only grinned, rewinding the video a few seconds.

“Squirt hit me on the way down.”

The screen suddenly showed Ruby positioning herself perfectly for a landing… before colliding head on with a rather familiar looking crow. They could just pick up her tinny voice on the recording: “ _Birdie, no!_ ”

“Kid packs a wallop, jeez.” Qrow rotated his arm, eyes still glued to the scroll.

Ozpin chuckled. “I’ll send that clip to Tai.”

“Send the whole feed he’s live streaming from Patch.”

“Ah, I should have known. Yes, just give me a moment…”

And from the back Glynda watched the two men, something dying slowly and painfully within her. She should have said no. The moment this fool man had barged into her reprimand to instead ply his niece with cookies and the promise of a coveted spot at Beacon… she should have just said no. _Damn_ the puppy-eyes of this family.

It was going to be a very long semester.


	24. A Meeting of Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Ozqrow dark materials drabble where Oz and Qrow touch each other's daemons for the first time"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about this series, so apologies for any inevitable mistakes :D

Qrow was cursed.

He’d realized as much on an otherwise bright, Autumn day when he’d first caught sight of the distinguished Headmaster Ozpin, a man he’d spoken to numerous times over encrypted letters, but had never had the pleasure of meeting in person. At the end of each letter was Ozpin’s loopy, surprisingly messy signature… and a paw-print in ink, courtesy of his daemon. Qrow should have realized something was wrong with him even back then. It was one thing to trace the dips and curves of the man’s name in the relative privacy of a tavern bed, wondering idly if he was as kind and brilliant as his words implied. It was something else to trace his daemon’s mark with the same sort of reverence.

He hadn’t thought much of it though. Qrow would face the Gods and swear it as absolute truth. He’d had no false, twisted intentions when he’d accepted Ozpin’s invitation to visit his Academy—a gesture of trust that had warmed Qrow’s chest and set Munin’s feathers ruffling. They were combatants in war, friends even, and the chance to finally meet face-to-face was a gift he wasn’t sure he deserved. Qrow had fully prepared himself for seeing the imposing figure of legend; a man whose appearance matched his wit, and he’d been ready. As ready as any mortal man could be, anyway.

Qrow had not counted on Ozpin’s daemon though.

She was, to be frank, startling in her beauty. Why didn’t Ozpin allow the press to photograph Ozma, keeping her out of sight with headshots and carefully edited video? This was why. Because Ozpin alone was stunning, but when paired with Ozma he adopted an otherworldly quality that rooted people in place and easily unhinged their jaws. Even children understood that daemons were a reflection of your inner-self, that their look and manner said something about the human they were paired with, and Qrow was of the opinion that most just couldn’t take the fact that Ozpin’s shown that bright. The jealous looks. The outright fear at times. He’d read more than one think-piece about Ozma’s decision to settle on a fox, how the form spoke of Ozpin’s tricky, conniving nature. Their beauty was a distraction and their wit a weapon to be feared. It hardly helped that her size was that of a wolf’s, standing nearly at Ozpin’s waist with a tail wrapped protectively around his legs. That was the image that had greeted Qrow across the headmaster’s office.

And he wanted to _touch_ her.

How did you describe an impulse of that magnitude? How could Qrow seek treatment for a sickness that shouldn’t exist? No one had ever told him that you didn’t touch another daemon… he’d simply known. Like he’d been born knowing how to breathe or think or stroke Munin’s feathers when the itch under his skin got too persistent. It was instinct, pure and simple, but now that instinct battled with another that rose up within Qrow, pounding and ferociously _wrong_.

“Qrow?” Ozpin had given him tea doctored with whiskey and smiles that stopped his heart. He sat, relaxed in his presence and smelling like mint. There were promises that he’d stay, plans for long days spent together, and a foot just touching his beneath the table. “Are you quite alright?”

“Fine,” Qrow managed, but it came out as a croak. Munin cast him a withering look. “I’m just…”

Just what? Ozma had situated herself on the left side of Ozpin’s desk like an overgrown cat, ensuring that she was a few measly inches away from him whenever Qrow reached for his drink. In fact, that she lay so close seemed to imply… something. Something that Qrow was hesitant to name. Because it was impossible, and he’d stopped believing in the impossible a long, long time ago. All he knew for sure was that her fur drew the eye. It looked like soft fire, life giving, ancient. Qrow had the distinct impression that if he stuck his hand in it would disappear completely, removed from the world by means of a coat so thick it could only belong to another world entirely.

He wanted to pet Ozma with the same intensity he wanted to stroke Ozpin’s hair. He wanted to flee to the bathroom and vomit, purge himself of whatever curse had wormed its way into his blood. Munin dug her claws into his shoulder until blood pooled up beneath his shirt and still Qrow _felt_ it.

He felt…

A tickle against his knuckles, like a blade of grass had suddenly been dragged across the skin. Qrow’s hand spasmed, unclenched, and then something unfathomably warm pushed up beneath his palm. He’d been looking at Oz and now sat rooted in his seat, knowing what this was and yet entirely unable to understand it.

A purr-like noise reached his ears. Working on instinct— _that_ instinct—Qrow stroked his fingers outward and watched as across from him Ozpin tilted his head back, eyes closing in something like bliss. A sigh escaped his lips and suddenly Munin’s wing against his cheek was the only thing keeping him afloat.

“You still have a lot to learn about the world, Qrow,” Ozpin said. He opened his eyes, languid like he wasn’t witnessing horror across his desk: a cursed man stroking the head of his daemon. No, somehow that made Ozpin smile. “Are you up for it?”

Qrow leaned forward, the action sending his fingers deeper into Ozma’s fur and encouraging Munin to take flight. For a heartbeat she was weightless in the air, poised between possibilities, impossibly aimed at Ozpin’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Qrow whispered and watched his soul finally land.


	25. All's Fair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I don’t know if you’re accepting Drabble prompts, but how about this: what if after Jinn’s vision ended, Ozpin had a slightly more... intense reaction to reliving his traumatic past?"

Ruby could vividly remember the first time she’d heard Uncle Qrow yell. It had stuck with her, like a thorn in her side, so very different from Dad’s anger because Dad was, well…Dad. He was _supposed_ to get mad at the messes they made and snap when they snuck out of bed. It always felt like that was just a part of being a parent, one microscopic aspect alongside laughing at their antics, crying over growth, getting frustrated when chores weren’t done, or fussing over skinned knees. Dad had a range, whereas Uncle Qrow was only ever Kind. Yes, Ruby capitalized it in her head, like it was something proper and rare. Uncle Qrow was Kind, made up of little more than unexpected gifts and rambunctious teasing. He never stayed long enough to be anything else. She couldn’t imagine Uncle Qrow telling them to do the dishes or planting them in time-out for the fifth time that day. He arrived to play video games and feed them the sweets Dad hid up in the top cupboard. What else were uncles for?

So when a yell had finally ripped from him it settled somewhere in Ruby’s core, taking up residence there without permission. It didn’t matter that it had only been in fear—Ruby young and sheltered, toddling towards the grimm that looked remarkably like a dog. Uncle Qrow had raised his voice at her and from that moment on was no longer just Kind.

Which was good. People didn’t work that way. They didn’t have one, simple setting.

So why had she thought Professor Ozpin did?

“What’s wrong with you?”

It wasn’t even a yell, but his tone…

The words sounded familiar to Ruby and with a jolt she remembered that Yang had asked him the same thing, all the way back in Haven. _What’s wrong with you?_ she’d spit when Ozpin revealed the impossible fact that he’d turned their uncle into a bird. _What’s wrong with you?_ and all he’d had for her was a smile, a promise, and an apology. Accusations rolled off him like water, as Ruby had once thought they should. She’d remembered thinking, vaguely, _Yes. This is a leader._

Ozpin didn’t have any kind words now.

He’d caught the punch Qrow threw at him, Oscar’s small hand still managing to twist and fling Qrow’s off to the side. As he stumbled away Ozpin got one shaking leg underneath him and finally raised his head.

Ruby took an instinctual step back.

The tears were still there and yes, he was smiling, but neither of those detracted from the outright fury in his eyes. His smile looked wrong there. Just as quick as she’d stepped back Ruby wanted to move forward again; wipe that look off his face and, despite everything she’d learned, replace it with a single emotion: anger or grief or something like pleasure. Something _simple_. Because this mix wasn’t anything she knew how to deal with.

Yang didn’t agree.

“What’s wrong with _us_?” she hissed, brushing right past a stunned Qrow to get up in Ozpin’s face. She towered over him and yet Ruby was more intimidated by how confidently Ozpin stared up into her eyes. He didn’t give an inch, even when Yang got close enough for spit to fly in his face and her breath to warm up his cheeks. “You’re the liar here! Or are we just supposed to ignore the fact that my mom was _right_?”

“Did you know there’s a recording of when you lost your arm?”

Yang snapped her mouth shut, momentarily thrown by the non sequitur. Ozpin nodded. “Oh yes. We’ve already established that I have trouble trusting people,” his mouth twisted. “So do you really think there weren’t cameras all over Beacon? Cinder managed to hack them briefly, but the material was all preserved. Qrow gave me access the moment I returned to Haven. Shall I bring the clip up now? I’m sure I have my scroll here somewhere…”

Ozpin didn’t reach for his pocket. He didn’t have to. Yang had gone as white as the snow at the mere suggestion. Ozpin’s gaze brush past her and landed on Blake.

“I believe I also have a recording of a certain conversation with Ms. Belladonna. Do you remember? I asked why you wore that silly bow; why hide who you are? The answer wasn’t important. The fact that you felt like you needed to was enough and I gave you the space to keep your secrets. Foolish of me, wasn’t it?”

Blake’s lips parted like she wanted to voice a protest and instead just ended up curling in on herself. Yang recovered fast and got between them, sparks dancing on the edge of her hair.

“Blake being a faunus didn’t get anyone killed!”

“No,” Ozpin agreed. For the first time his voice cracked and a bit of the anger seeped away. “Is that your threshold then, Ms. Xiao-Long? We can keep our secrets provided that they have no potential to spiral out of our control, resulting in things we never foresaw or intended? Ah, but then perhaps I should have demanded that Ms. Belladonna explain her origins after all. Such a personal connection to the White Fang is no simple offense. She might have put all of you in great danger, including a child who I was personally responsible for…”

Ozpin’s eyes met Ruby’s. She couldn’t hold them for more than a second.

“I’m not being fair though,” he continued, voice flat. Dead. “I do believe there are also recordings of a party Ms. Schnee attended a few weeks back. Shall we all watch together how her father treats her within the safety of Atlas? How she summoned a boarbatusk and may well have killed a civilian if James hadn’t been there to stop it? Am I allowed to force her to re-live that moment simply because I have the means to?” Ozpin’s gaze snapped to Qrow, ignoring Weiss’ flinch. “Your dear uncle felt strongly that neither of you should ever know about his semblance or the magic I gave him. But ah, we’ve already established how important information is to you all. Perhaps I should have told you, regardless of what a betrayal would have done to him.”

Ozpin tilted his head to the sky. Eyes closed now, snow mixing with what was left of his tears. His whole body shook.

“Of course, you know all these secrets already,” he said, so quietly that Ruby had to strain to hear him. “Ms. Xiao-Long has shared her trauma with you. Ms. Belladonna her heritage. Ms. Schnee told you all about that awful dinner party. My dear Qrow, you finally found the nerve to tell your nieces everything—even if unfortunate circumstances forced your hand. I’ve given you nothing new… and yet, somehow I don’t think any of you would be eager to watch those moments play out on my scroll. So tell me, what exactly gave you to right to watch all of _that_!”

Ozpin jerked back and slashed his hand in the air, encompassing everything that Jinn had shown them. Ruby felt a sting against her cheek as some of his aura followed the gesture. It split, a small trickle of blood running down into the corner of her mouth.

“Please tell me, does that help you all be better protectors of humanity? Did it sate your curiosity? To watch my former love try to kill herself over and over again? To watch her _murder my children_ —”

“It was me.”

Ruby blurted it without meaning to, but once she did she was stumbling towards him, the relic held out as a measly, pathetic offering. Ozpin didn’t take it. “ _I_ asked the question and I’m sorry. Sir. I didn’t think…”

Didn’t think it would be like this. But Ruby couldn’t bring herself to say it.

Surprisingly, Ozpin nodded. His eyes even softened a bit and when he reached out to rub the blood away his hand, though trembling, was gentle. “You didn’t think,” he agreed. “You didn’t think about what might happen if you asked your question, beyond the assumption that you’d finally get what you wanted. But what’s the cost, Ms. Rose? That’s all I ever do. For thousands of years now. I think and I weigh the cost of things. Sometimes I think long and hard enough that I hit on the right answer. Other times? …Well.”

Ozpin’s hand dropped. He spread them out at his sides, a gesture of vulnerability. “Do you still want to hit me, Qrow?”

Slowly, he shook his head.

As quick as it had come the anger was gone. As was the smile. Grief was the only thing left and Ruby revised her original thought. This wasn’t better.

“Okay then,” Ozpin whispered and turned his back on them. He began moving forward, not looking for who—if any—bothered to follow.


	26. Silent Vigil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "After Jinn's vision, Ozpin is unresponsive, utterly speechless. QRWBY go through the same motions as the show until they realize this fact. Your choice on whether or not they become concerned or not :)"

Ruby was careful to let the crunch of snow ring loud around her footsteps, breathing a little harder than needed and swinging her hips so the relic clinked against the cartridges in her belt. Despite all this, Weiss still flinched when she came up behind her and put a hand on her arm.

Ozpin slipped a little, but didn’t fall. Ruby’s smile turned apologetic. “I can take him now. If you want.”

“…Don’t be a dolt.”

A jolt of energy ran through her. Two years ago, if someone had told Ruby that being called a dolt would one day be the highlight of her week, she’d have laughed herself sick. Or no. She probably would have gone as red as her dress and started an awkward, messy defense about how she absolutely was _not_ a dolt she was _very_ smart, thank you. Something like that. Now Ruby was absolutely, extraordinarily happy to receive the insult, if only because it meant that Weiss was talking like Weiss again.

“Okay. But tell me if he gets too heavy. I really can carry him.”

Weiss sighed, the movement dropping Ozpin with it. He was nestled in a piggyback, head resting softly on her shoulder. From this side his face was hidden from Ruby, but she knew that if she went around all she’d see was drooped, glassy eyes. That expression sent a chill through her far stronger than what the wind had produced in the last hour. It was like Ozpin was awake, aware… and yet not at all. He looked but didn’t see; took in but didn’t answer.

They hadn’t even realized anything was wrong at first. Kneeling in the snow, head bent, Yang had shrieked at him until her voice cracked, more furious with each passing moment without a response. Ruby had tried to say something herself, but Uncle Qrow had beaten her to it, his fist coming up and connecting with the bottom of Ozpin’s jaw, sending him crashing into a nearby tree. It was only when he’d lain there, slumped against the bark, that they’d paused long enough to really _look_ at him.

For reasons Ruby hadn’t understood Blake had caught one glimpse of his expression and marched over to another tree, bending at the waste and vomiting behind it. She’d been almost methodical, retching twice more before wiping her lips and moving off to gather up the rest of their supplies, the curl of her ears the only indication that something was amiss. No one else blinked. It almost felt like it hadn’t happened at all. Yet Ruby had tried to go to her and had been stopped by Maria’s hand snatching at her cloak.

She’d shaken her head and Ruby hadn’t understood that either.

It was Weiss who’d finally approached Ozpin, bending and giving his cheek—the one rapidly developing a bruise from a hit with no aura protection—a light pat. She said something then, too low for Ruby to catch, but there was no mistaking the sharp shake she gave his shoulders. After running through the same process with Oscar’s name on her lips Weiss had sighed, looking… resigned. In a way Ruby hadn’t seen since they’d announced that they were heading back to Atlas.

She’d ignored Yang’s outraged comments and easily picked Ozpin up, hands surprisingly gentle around his legs. When Yang started to say something about him hiding from them? Weiss’ look froze them all, even Qrow.

The set of their shoulders said they wanted to leave him there, but now they didn’t dare voice it.

Suddenly, it felt like half her team was speaking a language Ruby had never heard before. Yang wasn’t interested in learning it, grabbing hold of her bike and not bothering to look past the handlebars. But Ruby didn’t have that luxury… right? Not as their leader.

So why did it suddenly feel like Weiss was in charge now?

Maybe some of that showed on Ruby’s face because Weiss rolled her eyes, hefting Ozpin up a little higher. “You don’t _need_ to carry him. You don’t need to do anything except keep walking. That’s enough, Ruby.”

Mmm. ‘Ruby’ now. Weiss was serious.

It almost brought a smile to her face… almost. Then Ruby caught sight of the way Ozpin’s foot knocked rhythmically against Weiss’ thigh. Oscar’s hand dangling limply beside her. On impulse Ruby snatched it up and gave it a hopeful squeeze.

No response.

“What’s wrong with him?” she whispered and Weiss immediately shot her another one of those looks, a glare that earned her the name Ice Queen in a way none of their silly jokes at Beacon had. It softened as soon as it landed though.

“There’s nothing _wrong_ with him,” Weiss muttered, head whipping back to stare firmly ahead. Qrow’s bent shoulders were just visible in the distance. “Not right now I mean. In general? I make no promises.”

“Weiss.”

Ruby could see a vein in her neck jumping when she tightened her jaw. She watched her throat bob as something difficult went down. “I did it once too, okay?”

“Did… what?”

“This,” and Weiss pulled Ozpin a little closer, careful in a way she’d never been with him before. “When I was ten there was a day I stopped talking. I stopped… everything. I don’t even remember most of it, but I know that my father tried to _make_ me snap out of it, and I—” Weiss cut herself off, eyes still trained on Qrow’s back. She blew out a breath loud enough that to the right Blake’s ears pricked, her own gait stiff and awkward. “Just leave it alone, Ruby. Professor Ozpin—and Oscar—will come back when they’re ready. We’ll figure everything out then.”

It sat wrong. Ruby knew she wasn’t a patient person and she definitely wasn’t someone who accepted ‘leave it alone,’ even from Weiss. Yet when she opened her mouth every option there felt like a spark, something small that could nevertheless start an explosion if she wasn’t careful. Ruby tried to think about this new language she was learning, one Weiss and Blake had apparently become fluent in while she was still nestled in Patch. Shaking slightly, hoping for warmth and not fire, Ruby settled on,

“What helped?”

Two syllables. Weiss took the brunt of them, eyes closing. When she opened them again they’d softened further.

“Winter,” she said. Her mouth quirked a little, looking around at the cold they trudged through. “My _sister_. And time.”

“…Okay.”

Anything more would be dangerous. Ruby recognized that much. She moved a little closer so that every few steps her shoulder brushed against Weiss’ and their skirts made a soothing _shhh_ sound that mingled with the wind. Ruby hadn’t let go of Ozpin’s hand. Or Oscar’s. Neither.

Ruby tightened her grip around limp fingers and waited for them to squeeze back. For now, that vigil would have to be enough.


	27. Uncle Oz (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Cloqwork, where they’re married, and Ruby and or Yang calls Ozpin uncle Oz???"

“Now what are you up to?”

Ruby didn’t answer except to giggle, fisting her hands in the fabric of Ozpin’s pants and trying to climb him like she did the large oak in the yard at home. She got about as far as she did with a trunk five times the length of her arms—which was to say, not far at all—so Ozpin shuffled over to the chair by the fire, dragging the toddler on his foot until she screamed with laughter. Journey complete, Ozpin hefted Ruby into his lap.

She immediately began searching his coat pockets for food. Ozpin chuckled.

“I think your niece wants dinner.“

“Why is she always my niece when there’s chores to do?”

Said the man who’d beaten Ozpin back with a spoon the moment he’d tried to help with the meal. It wasn’t the first time he’d drained his aura while out on a mission and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but that hardly made him useless. Ozpin had mentioned two days ago, entirely casual, that he’d be spending the weekend away from Beacon, resting up at their apartment in Vale. Qrow had flown in—via wings—with a mound of food and a hefty dose of worry. Only one of those things had decreased in the last forty-eight hours.

Ozpin rolled his eyes, generating another laugh from Ruby. “He’s impossible, isn’t he?”

“‘Possible!”

“Ah, that would be the opposite, darling. Though I suppose an ‘Im’ sound is a bit much for you still? Say, ‘mmm.’” Ozpin drew out the sound until Ruby dutifully copied him, producing more raspberry than elocution. It was a start.

Qrow’s head popped out from the kitchen doorway, eyes narrowed. “The fuck are you teaching her out here?”

“How to speak properly. Considering that some people in this family have reduced communication to an absurd amount of swearing.” Ozpin covered Ruby’s ears with a pointed look. Qrow snorted.

“Right. Let me know how that works out for you. Tai’s already got Yang hooked on outdated slang and once Ruby’s in the field she’ll realize you curse way more than I do. You’re fighting a losing battle, Oz.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” He grabbed hold of Ruby’s waist, bouncing her lightly on his knee. “You’ll be a perfect little lady, won’t you, darling?”

“With our genes? Fuck that.”

“ _Qrow_.”

“Don’t mind me, I’ve got stew to stir…” His spoon was the last thing to wave goodbye as Qrow disappeared back into the kitchen, determined to give them a heartier meal than the sandwiches Ozpin tended to subside on… and the cracker, candy, pocket lint mix that made up two little girls’ diets. For a man who presented himself as nothing but a rugged drunk to the masses, Qrow had a surprising domestic streak. It was a rare piece of him that Ozpin felt privileged to see.

So when Tai had wanted to visit friends without the distraction of two youngsters on his hands? Ozpin had been happy to take them into his care for the weekend, giving all four of them the chance to rest up a bit. Normally visits were limited to birthdays and other major events—time permitting—but ever since Ruby’s birth, Ozpin had been thinking that maybe he should change things.

“Would you like that?” he asked her, chuckling as Ruby immediately nodded. At two she couldn’t quite understand complex questions yet, but Ruby recognized that certain inflections resulted in someone nodding _this_ way or shaking their head _that_ way. Ozpin laughed harder as a babble of “Yes! Yes! Yes!” poured out of her mouth. “Very well. I’ll be sure to pencil more visits into my schedule.”

“You’re a nerd!” Qrow hollered.

“Mayhap. Anything for you and Ya—wait.” Ozpin ceased bouncing Ruby, generating a disgruntled expression and a solid fist to his chest. He ignored both. “Ruby… where is your sister?”

She just gave an inarticulate babble and pounded his leg to start bouncing again.

Oh dear.

“Here,” Ozpin said, depositing Ruby in Qrow’s arm’s precisely two seconds later. He spluttered at the squirming mass of toddler—especially near the stove—but Ozpin just shook his head at the rising protest. “Yang’s missing.”

“ _Shit_.”

“My thoughts precisely. Be back in a moment.”

He hoped.

Theirs was admittedly an odd family. In more ways than one. Most adults would have been worried _for_ the child if they’d suddenly disappeared on an otherwise calm, Sunday night. In contrast, Ozpin feared for whoever or whatever Yang came in contact with. The world wasn’t a danger to that girl, it needed to get the hell out of her way.

“Yang?” he called softly. She wasn’t making a mess in the guest room turned play room that the girls had been bunking in, nor was she digging through the hallway flower pot looking for buried treasure. The bathroom remained un-flooded and there wasn’t anything written jaggedly across the walls. The more things Ozpin found not amiss, the more suspicious he became.

Actually… something did look off about the bathroom, though it took him a moment to realize what it was. Once he did Ozpin heard a rhythmic _squeak-squeak-squeak_ coming from their bedroom. The bright spot of red normally present among the bathroom’s cool blues and whites was missing.

And there was Yang, just visible in the bathroom’s mirror behind him, jumping on their (freshly laundered) bed with muddy sneakers, plunger held in both hands like a (filthy, _utterly filthy_ ) sword. Ozpin watched, mesmerized, as she let out a cackle no five-year-old should be able to produce and raised said plunger high over her head. Yang bent her knees, launched herself into the air…

… and stuck the plunger onto the ceiling, dangling there like a small, mischievous monkey.

“ _Yang Xiao-long_.”

She slipped.

Ozpin was there a second later, catching the foolish girl before she could hit the bed. He and Qrow might have a fondness for soft sheets, but that was still a long fall for someone barely three feet tall. Ozpin cradled Yang as she stared up at him with eyes wide as saucers.

“Busted,” she whispered. There was a distinctive lisp that nearly broke Ozpin’s stern composure. He kept it though. Barely.

“Busted is right, young lady. What exactly did you think you were doing?”

Ozpin was speaking rather plainly about the plunger still stuck to his bedroom ceiling, but Yang seemed more interested in him. She pointed, still wide-eyed, between the hallway and her place in his arms. “How’d you do that, Uncle Oz?”

“Hmm? You know us huntsmen are fast…”

“But how’d you _know_?” Yang shook the lapels of his jacket a bit, trying to hammer home the awe she was clearly experiencing. Ah. She hadn’t noticed the bathroom mirror then. As far as little Yang knew, Uncle Oz had somehow caught her in the act without ever turning around.

Perfect.

“Didn’t you know all uncles have eyes in the back of their heads?” Ozpin said and watched as Yang’s mouth unhinged. She reached for his hair. “No, no, they’re not the sort of eyes you can see, but trust me, little one. They’re there… and they’re watching.”

Yang’s feet started kicking excitedly around his waist as Ozpin carted them back towards the kitchen, bits of dried mud flying every which way. “Cool, cool! _Gnarly_.”

Ozpin smothered a sigh. He really had to talk to Tai about that nonsense.

“…Wait.” Yang’s little brain was working overtime, connecting the dots of Uncle Oz’s cool new power and the fact that she was no longer swinging from the ceiling. “Not gnarly!”

Ozpin finally released the chuckle he’d been holding. “Oh I think it is. Wonderfully useful for catching naughty girls in the act of doing… whatever it was you were doing.”

“Not fair!”

“Ah, they learn the hardest lessons so young…”

Qrow eyed them as they returned, letting out a visible sigh of relief when he saw Yang safely in his husband’s arms. “What’s broken?”

“Nothing that I know of, though you’ll need to retrieve the plunger before bed tonight.”

“ _What?_ ”

Ruby sat on the counter now, oddly content with the spoon Qrow had previously been using. She’d cleaned it thoroughly of the stew and was now attempting to stuff both it and her fist into her mouth.

Excellent reminder. “Sink,” Ozpin commanded, putting Yang down and shooing her towards soap and disinfectant. “Now.”

Yang didn’t budge. She was staring up at her Uncle Qrow with the kind of furious suspicion only a child could fully pull off.

“Do you have eyes in the back of your head too?” she asked.

Luckily, Qrow had too many years as a spy under his belt to reveal anything to a five-year-old. He merely lifted one eyebrow, somehow managing to ooze confidence despite the frilly apron he wore.

“Duh,” he drawled.

“Prove it!”

So Qrow shrugged, turned around, and heeded Yang’s demand to tell her what she was doing now. Easy enough when Ruby sat there, now giggling madly. She only giggled like _that_ when Yang stuck her tongue out at someone.

Her look of horrified confirmation? Worth all the muddy footprints and missing plungers imaginable.

“I told you,” Ozpin said, steering the shocked girl firmly towards the sink. “You must always heed your uncles.”

Ten years later, the same voice carried the exact same reprimands.

“ _Yang Xiao-Long_.”

She froze halfway down the hall, Ruby making a soft “Eep!” sound beside her. Blake merely sighed as Weiss started a panicked, whispered laundry list of all the reasons she’d said they shouldn’t sneak out after curfew and now look at this mess. They were gonna get in trouble with the headmaster!

Yang was too busy staring at the wall to acknowledge her. Utterly _done_.

“How the fuck is he still doing that,” she whispered. Ruby gave a dramatic groan.

Ozpin just smiled as he approached, happy to see the girls bonding as a team so well—happier to put a bit of that old fear back in them. They’d grown, oh yes… but they were still children, and some things would simply never change.

“Now,” he said, surveying his two nieces… and his two new adoptees. “Would you like to tell your Uncle Oz what you thought you were doing?”

Busted.


End file.
